Sanatorium
by lordvio
Summary: Stockholm Syndrome. A response sometimes seen in abducted hostages, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger or risk in which they have been placed. /Wikipedia/ Ch 7. Sanatorium: Fear
1. Chapter 1

SANATORIUM : Bugs.

* * *

Allen told his master many times where he did NOT WANT TO WORK!!! Was that SO hard to understand? Was it? He looked at the note in his hand. Oh, the joy… NOT! Why, why in the whole cosmos was he going to work in a nut house? WHY?? Being in the mood he whimpered like a kicked puppy, feeling a deep, deep pity for himself. He felt old, oh so ancient.

He sighed grabbing a glass with water from the cheap table. He was twenty and this was the philosophy of his awesome and prolonged experience on this sinful earth: Life sucks and then you die.

Yup. And his life was the VERY essence of these words. He looked around. A _cheap_ sofa, a _cheap_ table, the _cheap_****stains on the _cheap_ carpet, and even the _cheap_ smell of his hair, washed by a _cheap_ shampoo.

Ah, life sucked. He studied like crazy for six years to become a professional psychologist. It's not like he liked to hear people's sob odes dedicated to their own lives. He just knew, no he KNEW! that professionals get paid a lot, and he meant a LOT!! Fifty bucks an hour! Fifty! He drooled, putting the cheap glass filled with tap water back on the cheap table. Cheap. He hated the word.

His master was a happy-go-lucky bastard that didn't know what clean and honest LABOR was. He acknowledged the said word only in its second meaning, as in giving birth. He didn't know what WORK meant. Of course he didn't, that bastard! And now that walking turd of a teacher (without Allen's knowledge) filled out an application that sent him TO THE PITS OF HELL!!!!

Yeah, it was that bad. The nut houses had usually violent patients that needed care twenty four/seven. And Allen couldn't (didn't wanna) do it. Being a bit on the thin side (muscles absent) and petite (extremely short) he shuddered at the thought that he would have to care for some demented drooling dude. It wasn't what he wanted. Plus they paid only forty five bucks per hour! The difference was five dollars. A HUGE difference!!!

He stared at the cheap glass on the cheap table. Well, they accepted him. It couldn't be helped. He'll just have to go to the crappy work. Maybe SOMETHING good could happen. Maybe.

_____

"There." The guard pointed at a huge, gray door. "That's your patient, dr. Walker." Allen simply stared, stupefied. There was DEFINITELY something wrong with this asylum.

Instead of showing him around, or meeting him with other doctors, he was "invited" to this …this STUPID room with cheap table, strikingly similar to the one he had at home. He was told that he'll live here, taking care of one "special"—as they put it—patient. SPECIAL HIS FOOT!! What the hell? Did they want to give him some vegetable man who wet his bed and sang "We are poor little lambs, Baa, Baa…" in his sleep?

Allen was trained to do another kind of job: Suavely ask how s/he is doing and then offer a cup of coffee. Then sit in the huge leather chair and inquire what seems wrong right here—he patted his chest—and then gingerly tell the patient that that _is certainly an issue._ Allen stared at the door, feeling miserable.

"Here I come, vegetable man!" The door opened and Allen pocked his head inside, like a dandelion. It was white. The room, of course! And a narrow bed was there, with strange leather straps tied to the margin. A lump covered with white covertures lay there like a huge, fat maggot, too big to be real.

Allen tiptoed inside. The vegetable man did not move, or sing "We are poor etc", or wet his bed. At least that was what Allen assumed.

He looked around startled by the uneasiness that clasped his throat.

This room looked strikingly similar to a prison chamber. There even was the small, dirty toilet bowl, and a table next to it. The only window was small and protected from the insiders by steel bars that seemed new, even sparkly. One wall was dirty as if someone had poured soup on the wall and then urinated on the spot, to add more…style.

Allen shivered. This was unnatural. He had been in mental institutions before. Usually, people put their "loved ones" there, to be looked after and be treated. The relatives usually paid all the expenses, choosing the room, diet, clothes quality, and other essential things. Then, what the heck was this?!

Allen approached the bed, noticing that the leather straps were new. He touched the closet one, and its end hit the floor, heavy. Allen squatted in front of the bed. He looked at the straps more carefully. Some places were stretched and worn out. Strange. Only a bull could do that. Or Hulk. He glanced at the patient. His head was covered with a bed sheet. Allen gulped, feeling a strange nervousness in his knees. It wasn't Hulk, right? Oh god. It was just a patient, for god's sake! It's not like he's dangerous or anything! Right…? He clasped the bed sheet with a trembling palm. On three he will pull it, discovering Hulk— no, the patient.

Three.

Two.

ONE!!!!!!

Allen blinked. The lump was something far more amazing than Hulk. It was a plain roll of pillows and blankets. There was no one in it. No one, just the bed. The patient wasn't here.

"Hehe! … Is his some kind of a joke…?" Allen let the sheet fall. It had to be a joke. Hehe! This institution wasn't so bad after all!

He paced outside, closing the door. The guard stared at him, gingerly clasping the gun.

"Is something wrong, Walker?" Allen ruffled his hair. He was smiling, confused.

"W-well, my patient…he's not there." The guard didn't even blink. He just took his walkie-talkie out and reported:

"Boss. He did it again." Again? What was that? Allen felt panic sneaking on him. This wasn't a joke. Something was definitely wrong!

"E-Excuse-m-me…" The guard glanced at him coldly. The man had black eyes. They were hollow and somehow acidic, even if that wasn't possible. Allen gulped, pulling his papers and graphs tighter to his chest.

"W-what happened?" The guard glared.

"That's not your business, Walker." Allen's face started slowly to heat up.

"What do you mean 'not my business'? That's my patient we're speaking about! Of course it concerns me!" The guard eyed him, amused.

"Ah, you are that type," he laughed out loud, baring his teeth like a gorilla. "So they didn't tell you, boy, where you are." He leaned on the door, preparing to say the story. "This is the Saint Noah's asylum. They keep here the worst people, those who never had a chance of recovering or never will have. So," he smirked, getting to the best part, "'cause protocol requires for of top ten worst patients a personal doctor, we invited a bunch of medics whose responsibility is just to take care of the loons, kinda like nurses." He spat on the floor and lit a cigarette. "Of course, everyone here is pissed off with that law, but there's not much we can do. I mean, why try to treat something that is not even human anymore?"

"N-not h-human?!" Allen felt the same trembling in the knees. This was too much.

"Well, they're like animals, out of their minds; you get it, right?" He blew a ring of smoke directly into Allen's face. The boy coughed.

"Please! This is NOT a place to smoke!" The man grinned.

"Ah, you're a stupid one. You still don't get it, do ya?" Allen frowned. He didn't like the man, nor his manners.

"You're a straw doll, a figure head. You're here just to wash that bastard—" he pointed at the room with his thumb— "and make sure he's not wet." Allen gritted his teeth. How can he talk about a sick person like this?!

'**V-1, V-1. Report to the second room. The subject is caught."**

The man shifted.

"Well, there you go cutie. That bastard is caught. Now he'll see some therapy. Therapy! Hehee!!" He suddenly broke into a hyena-like laughter. Allen shuddered.

"Can I see him? It's my patient after all!" The man lazily threw the cigarette on the floor.

"Ya sure can cutie. It's your patient after all," he repeated, grinning provocatively. Allen sighed. What a jerk. He dragged his feet behind the man, feeling depressed, blue, and tired.

The whole hospital was painted in a dark gray, like the inside of a cheap coffin. Allen stared at the _clean_ walls, passing _clean_ doors that gave the illusion of a _clean_ room inside. The guard turned left, disappearing in one moment. Allen stopped his tired march, glancing through the door-window in one of the rooms. It was _clean_. There was a woman inside, her hair short and yellow. Another person, apparently the medic was sitting next to her, showing her picture books. No dirty walls, handcuffs, leather straps present.

Suddenly, hearing a screeching sound of the iron door opening, he ran left abandoning his observation point.

Ah, there it was. The guard waived to him, making him move faster.

____

"There he is. Our precious escapee." The V-1 guy pointed at the screen. Allen caught his breath. He put the papers on the floor, making a mental note on picking them up when he'll be finished. He curiously stared at the reverse-glass screen. The next second the guard was restraining him.

"What are they doing?!?! Stop them!!" The guard pulled both his arms at some weird angle.

"Nah, we can't do it. Just be a good boy and watch. This is what that idiot gets for running away." He pointed at the screen.

Allen could see five men that strangely were the same model as the guy behind him: huge football players in black robes. On the floor, there was another person. He seemed to be minuscule comparing to the men around him. His shirt war ripped to shreds lying in one corner. The only thing that covered his back and chest was the hair. He was spasmodically jerking on the floor, gasping for air. One of the guards poked his chest with the tip of the boot. And then the hell broke loose.

The man shot his entire body up in a sudden spear-like movement. He hit a guard in the face with his knee then jerked away from an electric gun. He jumped to the door and bent to the handle, biting it. Only now Allen saw his arms, trapped in leather strips so high that the elbows touched.

When one guard grabbed him by the hair, peeling him away from the door, he cried out like an animal, madly biting anything that was around. One gun shot in the stomach and he stiffed, trembling and curling like a hurt snake. His hollering became a barely heard whimper. He fell on the floor and pulled he knees to his face.

A guard grabbed him by the hair, pulling his torso up. Allen could see his face. His eyes were dead. The left part of the face was swollen and one cheek cut, letting a bloody trail down his neck.

"Aw, don't cry cutie. That's what escapees get for running away." Allen snapped out of his daze and looked at the guard. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve.

"Let me go to him. They'll kill him. I need to go to him." The guard raised one brow.

"No, he won't die. This is his sixth time." He lit another cigarette and pursed his lips, letting the rings outside gently. "That is one tough son of a bitch. If you're not careful he'll kill you." He took the cigarette out, scrutinizing it. "Idiot. The fatty gave me Marlboros."

____

Allen put his hand in the bucket. The water was just right. He put the shampoo bottle next to it. Towel, scissors, clean cloth. He even found a clean shirt. Maybe it was too big, but…oh, who cares.

The man was unconscious. He lay there like a sack of potatoes. His abdomen was blue and green combined. Those bastards beat the crap out of him. Allen carefully washed his head, getting more amazed by the moment. That hair was never combed, or at least it didn't feel like it. It was long, going past his butt. Strange. The personnel usually cut the patients' hair as short as possible. Allen pulled his fingers through the strands, feeling the lumps of dirt. He cut them out one by one.

Done.

Next: face.

He looked at it with mixed feelings. The eyes were half open, slanted. He looked oriental. Allen took out a bottle of ether.

"This is going to sting a bit." The man didn't respond. Allen cautiously wiped the raw wound, pulling the margins closer. Thank god. He didn't need to sew it. Wetting the cloth in the hot water he wiped the neck. He could feel the pulse. It was faint and lazy, but it existed.

A few hours passed. Allen got up and stretched, yawning. His ass hurt like hell from sitting so much time on his knees. Plus the ground was pure stone, cold and dirty.

When he was dressing the man he saw a cockroach getting under the bed. Allen sighed. Somehow his life turned from bad to worse.

He finally put the man on the bed, slightly hitting his head. That should do it. He took a few steps back, admiring his work. Yup. The subject was clean. Subject, huh… He bit his lip. Seeing the scene with the guards made him realize that they saw this man as a subject, not an actual person. Subject. Allen called him that too. What was his name, anyway?

He picked up the file and started glancing through it. God, he wanted to eat something. Something as in vegetables. No meat today.

Ah, Kanda. Kanda Yuu. Twenty years old, male. Japanese. God, another cockroach disappeared in the corner.

He'll need to bring some kind of bug-spray.

* * *

Ah, the story I promised. I have no idea how long it'll be. I still plan to update Tales of the Roadkill once or twice a week, so this one...Oh, well.


	2. Bug invasion

Sanatorium: Bug Invasion.

Allen licked his lips. He raised his hand, cautious, concentrated. His eyes narrowed focusing on a certain point. The hand rose a bit higher, hesitating, trying to find The Moment. He had to do it right. The life of the patient was on stake. Three, two, one:

SMACK!

"Serves you right, cholera carrier!" He got up shaking his hand. The cockroach became a yellow mass. Only one small, black leg jerked not wanting to die. Allen dropped his sneaker on the floor, trying to put it on without the help of the hands.

These two days he tried to get rid of the roaches. It was utterly impossible. He had sprayed the bug solution on the floor. In the morning he found a few black corpses and swept them in one corner. The next day the comrades of the fallen came out, invading the bed, toilet, and the table Allen had brought in. That day he had to undress the unconscious patient and sterilize his skin. Allen had called the Sanitation Forces, but they just laughed and told him to have fun with the hunt. Those idiots!

But the black army just kept on coming. Seriously, NOTHING could kill them! He even threw a smoke grenade in the chamber. That would definitely work. AS IF!! The next day he had to deal with high cockroaches. They would march on the floor, hitting their nasty heads into his feet walking backwards and again, invading the bed.

Allen disinfected Kanda's skin. Again.

What more could he do?

____

"I want to transfer number 17 in another room." The supervisor blinked. He eyed the young man with indifference. He was big and dark, strikingly resembling a gorilla.

"I have to transfer him, sir!" The supervisor looked at him cleaning his yellow rows of enamel with a toothpick. He wanted to be with Gina now. Gina had big, rose breasts. He bit the toothpick and spat it out, disinterested in the janitor's future curses.

"Sir! I must transfer nr. 17 in another room!" Ah, Gina smelled good. He'd have to call her, just for a night. Well, she was married but who cares! The supervisor took out another toothpick. How the hell did people make them? He turned the box upside down. Made in China. Figures.

"Sir! Are you listening?!" The strident voice made him drop the box.

"Whaddaya want, mutt?" Allen froze. Mutt?! Who does this gorilla think he is?! The Gorilla God?! Humans are higher on the evolutionary stairs anyway!! Allen bit his tongue. Patience. He was here to get a new room. He had to get a room.

"I need to transfer nr. 17 in another room. The one he is in now is no good." The supervisor spat out a crushed toothpick. He remembered Gina's number.

"Mutt, come back later. I'm bein' busy here. So get lost." Allen gritted his teeth. Why was the Gorilla God so stubborn? He could just give him the bloody room and get back to 'bein' busy'! Was it that hard?!

"Sir, I NEED another room!" Allen propped himself in front of the man. He even pounded his fist into the dark table, leaving dents in the hand's flesh. Well, the table was too hard to dent, or that's how Allen later justified his weak set of muscles. The man rose slowly. He towered above Allen like a mountain. Even his face became worthy of the high status he held: The Gorilla God. Allen gulped. He tried to pace away but remained frozen under that set of bloodshot eyes.

"If ya wanna room, pay for it." Allen nodded rapidly. He didn't want to anger the Gorilla God. He didn't want to feel the rage of the hairy deity on his own skin. So he just nodded and took out a credit card.

"C-can I pay n-now? P-please?" The god sat back, sneering and taking out his cell phone.

"Gina? 'S that you?" He jerked the card from the trembling fingers. "Ya wanna hang out tonight? I've got some bucks to burn."

__________

Allen looked in front of him. The guard said, this one to the left of the stairs, it's impossible to miss. Yeah, right. Impossible. There was NO LEFT OF THE STAIRS!!!! He clutched his hair, trying to look desperate. Why the BLOODY HELL was he in the basement?! The 'left of the stairs' was supposed to be on the fourth floor! Fourth! Not minus one!!!!

"Is anyone here?" Yeah, right. As if the creepiest and the maddest of people would respond. They were here, oh how sure he was. He KNEW that there were evil scientists here, hiding behind the huge glass tubes filled with green liquid and eyeballs. He had no idea why would a mad nerd need eyeballs. The fact was that they _needed_ the eyeballs.

Allen looked around. The basement probably extended under the whole building. All he could see was empty space. No walls supported this place, only colons. Creepy. Dark. Allen gulped. Haunted. He shuddered and turned around, trying to discern the sound of some ghost, or rat, or Frankenstein. Well, technically it was the monster of Frankenstein, but that would sound too long. No noise. Not even an evil laughter. Maybe water is present somewhere… He sharpened his snail thingy in the ear. No water. Just an extremely dead silence.

"Hello? Anyone? Heloooo? Monster-san? Are you there?" Allen tried to howl. No one could hear him anyway. He whistled. A pathetic tune came out. The echo whistled back, mocking his lack of skill.

Where was the room, anyway? Maybe he needed to head back, or at least find the bloody stairs that brought him here. That's right. He had no idea how he got in the basement in the first place. Maybe if he looked around he could see the huge red EXIT sign.

He did look around. All he found was a pair of broken chairs and a dead cat. Really, were there stairs in the first place? Maybe he came down by elevator? Allen pocked his lower lip. He didn't remember pushing any buttons. And there was no elevator around. He glanced at the dead cat. How the hell did this creature get in here? He stared at the large dark space in front of him. No clues. No stairs. Nothing.

"Oh, come on! This is not even funny anymore!" He plopped on the floor, not even realizing that his white lab coat was becoming not so white anymore. He just wanted to get out! God, is it that hard or expensive to hear people's requests? Allen looked up, facing the deaf upper force. He blinked and got up to see the ceiling better. An air-vent stared at him, grinning its hideous, toothless snout at him. Oh! Maybe he_ could_ get away from here.

Allen tried to stand up on his toes, a pretty pathetic ballerina simulation. The ceiling rose higher. Or maybe he wasn't tall enough? Nah, it had to be the ceiling. Allen looked around to find something stupid enough to be used as an elevation point. Yup. Broken chairs. They had three legs. Well, if he propped them to the wall he could use them.

Or not. He got up, spitting some dirt out. His butt received most damage, so it was ok. He looked at the crooked chairs. He had to get into that air hole if he wanted to live, procreate, and die a peaceful death. With grunts and howling he finally clasped the margin of the air vent. Three, two, one. He was still hanging, galloping in the air and cursing the stupid pair that conceived him. Couldn't she find a more athletic partner?! Two, one. Still hanging. Now his shoe was flying to the floor. One. Oh, come on, get in! One.

Finally!!

He stared in front of him, trying to find spider webs, poisonous centipedes, and a slimy python. All he found just a black hole that was pretty clean. Oh, this asylum actually cared about sanitation! Gh, that doesn't explain the cockroaches though. He bent down on his four, his nose catching the strange smell of mold and cigarette.

Crawling through the steely square hole he could hear laughter, cries, even moaning at some point. AT the last one he stopped gluing his ear to the wall. Then jumped away. No, he wasn't that worthless of a person! He wasn't as low as to eardrop on someone's private affairs! Peeking was OK though.

____

When he decided that the complicated corridor brought him to the first floor he opened the lid and peeked inside. Then he put the lid back and developed an amazing speed of fifteen miles per hour considering that he was still crawling. He could hear the shrilly curses behind. How stupid! Who would want to see someone taking a dump? Those women were clearly flattering themselves! Actually, if he thought about that … They scarred his soul! His innocent soul and mind! And why isn't this thing finishing? It's tiring to crawl for two hours! He couldn't even feel the elbows anymore!

He stopped above another lid with plastic bars. Oh, what kind of stupid joke is that? Not moaning again! He had already seen everything! He already knew what the bees and the birds and the bears were doing! "The triple B" as his master called that! Well, at least it's free. And he peeked inside. Then took the lid off ad jumped on the floor. He could see a shirtless man cowering in one corner, gripping his abdomen.

"Sir? Are you ok?" The 'sir' turned around. Allen froze. It was HIS patient.

"Kanda?! You're conscious?! That's so grea—" and he glued his back to the wall behind him. Pale wasn't a word. Kanda was deadly white, as if his skin was sprinkled with bleached flower. He sneered and bent to meet Allen's eyes. Their noses almost touched. Allen could see his teeth. White, sharp canines. Almost catlike. He swallowed his tongue and squinted, trying not to feel the foul breath on his face.

"Are you the freaking doctor?" Allen gulped and nodded. The madman's sneer became larger. He slowly lifted one hand, grasping Allen's neck.

"Stupid little shit. You came to poison me too?" He clasped the fingers tighter, cutting every single oxygen source to the boy's lungs.

"I'll kill you before you sneak those pills in my food." Allen opened his mouth, swallowing nonexistent air. His eyes were slowly pushed out by the pressure in the body. The small, skinny chest was inflating with carbon dioxide. Allen could hear himself hitting the wall with the heels, a strange drum-like sound that hit his tympanis. He was scratching Kanda's skin. He could feel blood under the nails, but he didn't care.

He let out a strange bubbling sound, his saliva slowly spilling on the chin, neck, and the fingers holding him. Strange black dots were dancing in front of his eyes, swallowing the light. He tried to keep them open, but some mad force just added red splashes in the black dance. He faintly heard a powerful sound that resonated in his brain, hurting his thoughts. He wanted to live. He desperately wanted to live.

Then the hand jerked. The boy hit the wall with the back of his head. The black holes in his vision became red, then white. Air. Air. He pull the air inside with such a force that it hurt, choking on saliva. His chest hurt as if he had drunk a gallon of bleach. It hurt. It hurt so much to be alive. It was painful and he let the tears out. He lived. He could live. He could breathe therefore he could live. A wonderful conclusion.

Allen shakily got up coughing his lungs out. He stupidly stared at the dirty floor, feeling some kind of wet, sticky crap on his hands. He struggled to turn his neck. He could still feel the cold fingerprints on his throat. What the heck happened?! Did he really want to kill him? He lifted the palms closer to the face. Blood. It was almost black under fingernails. He suddenly fell on his knees. Blood. He hated blood. He couldn't bear to see it. He felt like gagging. The temptation was to cover his mouth, but he just kept staring at the stained fingers.

"Hey, cutie, ya awright?" Somebody was shaking him. He slowly raised his head. A large face was staring at him, pink and plump, like frosting on a cake. The man was shaking him gently holding his shoulders.

"Ya awright?" Allen felt lifted up. He could see the room from above, feeling the broad chest of the guard stuck to his cheek. The man smelled of Marlboros. Allen looked up and tried to ask where Kanda was, but instead a gurgling sound came out. The guard looked down. The boy followed his gaze and immediately tensed up. Two guards were restraining the attacker. He was handcuffed to the bed, writhing like a worm cut in half by a shovel. One of the guards, the one with hairy hands was gripping his jaw open, putting something in the screaming mouth. Red pills. The man hit him with the foot, sending him into the dirty wall. Allen heard the dry, snapping sound of a broken nose. The guard fell limply, covering his face. Allen could see thick blood falling bit by bit on the floor.

"Hold the fucker!" Another guard came running in. He took hold of Kanda's head hitting him in the stomach with the heavy soldier boot. The man grunted and fell, still receiving the hits.

"Let him go!!" Allen didn't remember anything else. He could tell that he was on the floor, covering someone. He could see the black boots moving, stopping, hitting the wall, and screaming obscenities. One pair stopped next to his elbow and he felt the big, hot hand of the guard that lifted him earlier.

"Cutie, ya ca let go now. We have to tranquilize that fucking bastard. Just let him go." Allen shook his head. Couldn't these people see that Kanda was in pain? Couldn't they feel him shaking? He was hurt! And they would hurt him even more!

"I said let go. He'll kill you if you keep it up!" Allen slapped his hand away. He got up, looking at the man under him. His body was trembling spasmodically. He felt anger in his chest rising like a huge, white geyser. He curtly pointed at the door.

"Get out!" His voice rose high, cutting the standing nearby ears. "Get out!" He pointed at the door again, stomping his sneaker-less foot. The guards fell silent.

"I said GET OUT!" His voice broke. He was almost crying. The guard that picked him up slowly nodded and put his palm on other man's back. He turned his back to the boy, urging the rest to 'carry their shitty asses out.' When the door closed Allen hastily spun toward the bed. Kanda was lying on the floor, his torso suspended by the handcuffs.

"Just…just don't move. I'll try to put you on the bed." Allen rumbled through his pockets. He knew the cuffs were a standard model, and –like all doctors in the madhouse—he was given a standard set of keys. It took him more than thirty minutes to lift the man, put him on the bed and give him a sedative through the syringe.

Kanda whimpered slightly then the needle entered in the vein. He rolled his head, the hair –that now reached his mid back—fall on his face. He was still pallid and felt cold to the touch. Allen sat on the bed next to his chest.

"Kanda, can you hear me?" His voice was soft, as if he was speaking to an innocent child. The man rolled his head again meeting Allen's sight. He tried to say something. His lips moved to form sounds but those were not coming out.

"You want to say something, Kanda?" Allen lowered his head, matching his ear to the man's lips. His breath tickled. A strange low vice came out, like the voice of the dead.

"I will kill you." Those words were so faint Allen hoped he imagined them. The man was sleeping now, breathing softly through the cracked lips. There had to be a mistake. He misheard.

The boy got up to clean the room. The blood stains on the wall. The blood stains on his fingers. The blood on the floor was especially striking. The roaches gathered around the red splotches, walked through the middle of them, leaving a delicate trail on the cold stone. The boy tiredly stared, too worn out to care.

Allen suddenly plopped on the ground. The weariness in his legs was almost visible. It dragged him to the floor, forcing him to sit on it, next to a suspicious red dot. He felt a strange tiredness filling him. His eyes were now the heaviest thing in the world.

The window let the moonlight in, forming a silver pool on the dirty floor. The cockroaches came out and gathered under that eerie light, moving carefully. They were inviting him to dance. How stupid. Cockroaches don't dance. He studied biology in high school.

But they did dance, turning silver and sparkling with a precious light. They even sang a cheerless tune, lulling him to sleep. Allen didn't want to sleep. He wanted to keep in mind the march of silver insects that moved in an almost military pace. Tik-tik, tik-tik, they marched, and Kanda was dancing too.

* * *

**I want to see Kanda dancing with cockroaches. Seriously, Allen has weird dreams.**

**When my brother read the first part of this chapter he was smirking. Which is an amazing fact, because he has no idea how to smile**. **Anyway, I forgot to mention something: In the first chapter I said Allen is twenty, which is true. I also wrote that Kanda is twenty, and it's supposed to be twenty five. I need to make him older. **


	3. Comb

Sanatorium: Comb

The bucket was red. He _knew_ the bucket was red. Allen even distinguished the shade: the red of a formerly frozen beet. And that lovely red bucket hit his head with a crunchy sound. And before the young doctor let himself float away on a quest for the most delicious swears and curses, he jumped out of the patient's room and firmly locked the door. He wasn't going to give up –but Hell, how he wanted to!!

Three weeks passed since Kanda tried to escape. Three weeks. The boy filled his chipped cup with a murky crap who someone thought to be coffee. Three weeks and he still was afraid to come into that room. Allen looked at the cup. It was dirty. Ugh, now he'll have to throw the coffee away. What a waste. He started to spill the coffee in the sink, watching as it slowly moved the tiny bits of waste toward the drain. He sighed again and grabbed the H handle. No hot water. Great.

Why is EVERYTHING in this hospital so damn useless?! The nurses were supposed to be girls! Girls, not those old macaques dressed in a stupid pink with no sense of coordination! And the guards?! They were supposed to guard, not smoke the patients out! And why Marlboros? Every one of them smoked Marlboro! Was there some Marlboro cult?

And the patients… His patient… Oh, GOD!!! Why was the bastard trying to assassinate him every time he went into the room? Was he trying to prove something? Maybe he thought that was a cute joke? Maybe this is how he said good morning? YEAH, RIGHT!! Allen was his doctor, dammit! He was supposed to meet him with adoring eyes, not a brick, because Allen was the one who looked after him! That ungrateful loon!

The boy rubbed his head. It was his third bump this day. Where did Kanda get the bucket?! There were no buckets in the room when he left! Oh, well. If he could explain where the bucket came from then many mysteries would be solved. Like, how Kanda got that hoe last time he hit him. Or the voodoo doll Allen found under the bed. And he must admit it, it was well done. Too well done.

Only a hatred that turned into a shuddering obsession could inspire the man write on the doll's back "DIE FUCKING MOYASHI." What was Moyashi he had no idea. Maybe it was one of those Japanese curse chants he saw in Ghost Hunt, something like "_Nan-man-ku shan-zan baza-radar_" or something… The only word he understood was _radar_, but he was sure that the rest of those words bore a horrible, horrible meaning.

That aside, in three hours he had to go in Kanda's cell again. Well, basically it wasn't a cell, but it sure looked like one. And they didn't give him a new room either. Marlboro smoking bastards! Was it that hard to give him a more sanitary room? Come to think of it, the GiGi didn't return his credit card. GiGi was short for the Gorilla God, whose abbreviation would be GG, but since it was pronounced as gi-gi, he named him Gigi. That was cuter. And totally didn't suit Gor…GiGi.

The boy stopped in front of the room. He glomped whatever he had in his mouth and tried to look brave. No can do, his knees were beating each other in the kneecaps. And he felt like pissing his pants. But remembering that he was a man, potentially a hero, Allen sorrowfully smiled preparing for one last attack. He will charge the monster and… comb his hair. That guy didn't take care of himself! And he looked like a half drowned Japanese ghost! That in itself is unforgivable! A violation of copyright rights! Ah, that idiot!

The door was heroically slammed into the wall. Allen held his current weapon that cost him exactly two dollars fifty nine cents. Behold! And Allen extended the comb -that crushed his budget- in front of him, like a charm against demons. Entering the chamber he yelled like a fired person during recession, apparently trying to scare the patient. And froze midway, stunned at the sight.

Kanda was crouching in front of the toilet bowl, one hand going deep in his throat. He was trying to gag the food he just ate under Allen's (and a bunch of guards') supervision.

Allen saw his face cringe with disgust and tension as the two fingers went deeper in the throat. Then the reaction came and the man almost dived into the toilet. Allen slowly approached the (cheap) table, looking at the man coldly.

"You do realize I put your medicine in the food, don't you?" The man hatefully eyed him from below, tiny bits of saliva and masticated food still stuck to his lips.

"Fuck off, bastard. I'll kill you before you poison me." And he spat at him scornfully. Allen eyed him scowling. He just washed his robe. He just made it white with powerful bleach that almost burnt his hands. And now… That stupid…

"Kanda! Would you stop this? It's really annoying!" Allen clenched his fists, slamming the files on the table. Kanda sneered. "I'm just trying to do my job! And you make it crap worthy!" The man stood up wiping his mouth.

"That's what the last shrink said before I made him jump off the bridge." Allen pouted. He was getting tired of the whole thing. Of course he would've quit, but his credit card…

"Whatever." Allen sighed and sat straight on the crappy chair. He fixed his voice, making it sound like a grownup.

"Kanda, I just got the results from your tests." The man eyed him with a well hidden curiosity. Allen coughed slightly. He had to do it discreetly.

"Well, there are problems with you—Agh, what are you doing?!" Kanda grabbed the files, carelessly throwing them on the floor after a second of view. Then he finally found what he wanted. He held the paper close to his face, reading it carefully. Then he firmly went to the toilet and threw the paper in, pulling the water lever. Allen froze. That paper was the original!!!

"What the hell are you doing idiot!? Those ar—" The man grabbed him by the collar. Their faces were dangerously close and that made Allen shudder, feeling the bad breath. He'll need to bring some toothpaste in. And a brush. Some brush. A new toothbrush would be too good for this bastard. Even a toilet brush would do go—

"What did you call me, little crap?" The little crap covered his nose. He looked away, trying to hold his breath. His eyes burned.

"God, you stink." Kanda froze. Allen could see his eyes enlarge at least twice and look away. Ah, he still didn't lose his dignity. Allen mentally smirked. To emphasize Kanda's condition he gripped his nose, breathing noisily through the mouth. And found himself on the floor, kissing the ground in front of a baby cockroach.

Then he boy looked at the loon. The bastard was staring at the table. His back looked ashamed, if a back could have emotions. Allen smirked. It seems that they could find common language, right? Even if that was hygiene.

"Tell you what, Kanda. I will ask the guard to allow you to go into my room. There's a shower there. You can use it." Kanda looked at him suspiciously. His eyes narrowed as if he just smelled a fart. Then he looked at the window. Then at the table. Then at Allen again. This bastard was so indecisive!!!

"Are you an idiot? There is no way I'm going to trust you. Or showers!" He made a fist and shook it madly under Allen's nose. "I'm not getting a fucking shower!" Allen sighed and pushed the fist away. He stood up, putting all the papers together. Kanda eyed him grimly, running a hand through the hair and getting stuck in the lumps. Allen threw the comb at him and ignored Kanda's yelp of sharp pain when the comb hit his eye.

"As you wish, Kanda. I cannot go against your decisions. You're my patient after all." He put the papers in the folder and sighed again. The man looked at him as if Allen became spider-man in front of his eyes.

"Kanda, there is something else I have to ask you." The man was already seated on the bed when Allen addressed him. He looked at the young doctor with disgust as if he were a gorilla wearing a pink bikini. Then nodded reluctantly.

"Do you sweat at night?" The man glared and pointed at the boy, still gripping the hateful comb.

"That's none of your fucking business! Get lost midget, before I make _you_ sweat blood!"

Allen gripped the papers tighter. At least the loon didn't break the comb. Good. Now Allen had to be gentler to encourage Kanda from comb-destructing behavior. And of course from self-destructive behavior too, but Allen _paid_ for the _comb_. That stupid brown thing crushed his budget. Wait. He had to be gentle. Gentle. For the sake of the comb. Air in, air out.

"You see," he said softly, "if you sweat at night, seem tired and have fever…" He looked at the man gravely. He saw the man frowning and gripping the comb tighter. Crap! He had to be blunt!!!

"Something was wrong with your lung X-ray."The boy suddenly blurted out. Kanda dropped the comb. Yay! No broken comb-teeth! The man grabbed him by the shirt. Ah, he was still here…

"What the hell are you saying?" Allen gulped. This man was almost twice as tall as him and for some reason he almost yelled the words out. He glanced at the comb at the loon's feet. Crap, one more pace and his $2.59 will go to a complete waste!!!!! He had to do something!!!

"Kanda, put me down. Please. It hurts." The man snorted. He pushed him away carelessly, as if the boy were a sack of rotten potatoes. Allen fell on the floor, killing a dozen of cockroaches. Kanda towered above him like a Palme tree. At least he got him away from the comb!

"What's wrong with my lungs?" Allen squirmed. He felt threatened and intimidated. Even if he got the precious possession away from the loon's hooves he seriously feared for his own life. He had never seen the loon like this. The man looked in control, almost calm. He didn't have that crazy flicker in his eyes, or the sharp sneer he usually wore. He looked perfectly sane. And that was scarier than facing a sexually deprived bulldog.

"Well, I found two strange dots on your X-ray. It might be tuberculosis." Allen said enthusiastically. Maybe that'll distract him. Kanda suddenly straightened and drew a hand through the hair. Thank god!! Even if he lied. There was obviously no tuberculosis, but he just blurted that out. Who knows what kind of polluted air caused the dots. And… he needed treatment anyway.

"There is no fu—" Kanda's voice was sharp and cold. He glared at the boy and turned his back. Allen blinked. He took his words seriously? Oh, yeah…He was his doctor and doctors don't usually joke about… Crap, what if Kanda terminates his life over this?! Then Allen would be fired!! And he wouldn't have money! No forty five bucks an hour! He had to do something, or the loon will seriously kill himself!!!

"Kanda!" Allen tugged him by the sleeve. He saw the man turn his head toward him, annoyed and hopeful at the same time. Allen grabbed his hand and yelled in his face:

"I will try to send you to a hospital! I will do everything to help y—"

Kanda interrupted him with a scornful face. He even slapped his hand away, that ungrateful bastard!

"Shut up, midget. I don't need your help. Nor your compassion. Just get the fuck out and don't ever come back." Allen let his hand down. Stupid loon. Compassion, huh? He never thought about that. He never was compassionate to Kanda. Somehow that stung. He looked at his feet and mumbled under his nose. Kanda exasperatedly put his hands on hips.

"What?" Allen rapidly shook his head, moving curtly to the door. Touching the knob he stopped and whispered so Kanda barely could hear him.

"I'll be back at eleven." He left the cell almost at the same time when a brick flew at his face with the speed of a NASCAR champion.

_________________________

"Sir, please! He's sick!" GiGi didn't interrupt his thoughts about Agnes. Agnes had broad, beautiful hips. The man took out a cigarette and chewed on it, forgetting to light it up. Agnes liked white chocolate.

"Sir! Can I get permission for Yuu Kanda's treatment? He will die if he's not treated!" Agnes' hips were white and soft. GiGi could imagine them under his hairy fingers. And he bit his tongue along with the cigarette.

"Sir, do you let me or not?" The man closed his eyes squeezing the tears out. Agnes disappeared with the arrival of pain in his mouth.

"What the hell do ya want?" Allen almost fell on his knees in exasperation. He hated the damn Gorilla God and didn't even care if the shaggy evilness hit him with a boulder.

"Do you give me permission or not?" He mumbled tiredly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He spat the cigarette down. Exactly on Allen's foot. The boy twitched.

"Go away mutt, I have sum' serious problems to attend to." Allen couldn't help but feel grateful. He could get Kanda into some humane hospital. Maybe Kanda will tearfully thank him and…Nah, that's impossible. He'll just shove a bazooka into his face and say something along "fucking midget" and "Die, invertebrate."

Invertebrate? Allen wasn't sure if the loon knew this kind of word. He probably wouldn't. Ah, right. He had to force the loon to take a shower! Allen started bullying his lower lip. What was the plan? He could …umm, maybe…Yeah! Throw some nasty stuff in Kanda's face!!! Then that grumpy bastard will _have _to get into the shower! But Allen will get killed in the process, so that wouldn't work…

Maybe he could ask the guards to tie Kanda up and dump him in the shower… Nah, no good. His hands would be tied and someone else would have to wash him. Plus the guards could beat him up instead of gently tying him up…wait! This is not an S&M game! Or is it? Is it? Crap, he had to plan.

So, the plan. Yeah… Allen pursed his lips. WHAT THE HELL WAS THE PLAN??? Augh! What if he knocks him unconscious and then drags him into the shower and washes him with a floor scrubber? That might be good, except that the guy was two times bigger than his petite self. He wouldn't be able to lift him. So! He had to make Kanda come willingly into the shower. Allen smiled grimly. There was only one way to do the bastardly deed!

__________________

"Cutie, what are you doing here?" Allen got up, rubbing his nose. Ah, Kanda's guard. The man had huge hands with hairy finger joints. And he smelled of Marlboro.

"You should be careful cutie—" Allen grabbed him by those thick fingers. He had an idea!

"Sir!" The Marlboro guy looked at Allen curiously. He had no idea what this little girl with flat chest and pink lips wanted from a big fellow like him. When he first saw her he thought she was an angel. Plus she was terribly cute. Cutie!!

"What, cutie?" he stuttered and smiled. Allen mentally gagged. The man was blushing. And gripping his fingers. Oh well. At least he could put him to a good use.

"Sir! Could you help me with something? I desperately need help with my bacteria-ridden patient!" The Marlboro guy nodded rapidly.

"No problem, cutie. I will do anything to help you!" Allen smirked. This was going to be good. Ah, he almost forgot, he needed to take his clothes in that yellow room.

Today was Friday, the laundry day.

_______

**Allen is so cheap here. And the Marlboro-guy...I love him. He still thinks Allen's a girl. And Allen performs the duties of a regular doctor, not only psychological ones.**

**I seriously have to stop eating white chocolate. I'm getting too insane.....  
**


	4. Shovel

Sanatorium: Shovel.

Allen dumbly stared at the yellow underwear in his clutch. Then he squinted, trying to find a piece of dirt, or natural waste, or just stains. He smiled and nodded. No stains. His favorite boxers were even cleaner than antibacterial soap. He grinned.

Why were they his favorites? He looked at the imaginary asker as if the person's brains were kicked out by a thunder strike. Why? WHY?! They were YELLOW!!!! With polka dots! Where would a healthy male find yellow boxers with polka dots?! That's right! Not in Family Dollar! Or Dollar Tree! He found them in one of hoity-toity boutiques he was working for! That means these boxers were high class! He spent half of his salary to buy them!!!

And he put them with a loving chuckle on the bottom of the bag along with a monochrome rainbow of socks and boxers. _Those_ were from Dollar Tree. He patched some of the socks, but still had to replace most of the pairs. Oh well, he still could use them…for a few more months. He put the next foul smelling bunch of clothes in one of the Laundromat's machines.

Coin, coin. Aha, that quarter he found in the park! So shiny… He still remembered the useless bum that tried to snatch the coin under his nose. As if he'd let him! That bum got what he deserved! And Allen righteously gripped the precious and memory filled coin in his emotionally trembling fingers. But now they had to part! Oh, cruel fate—

"What the hell do you think you're doing!!!!?"The young doctor could feel a pair of boots stomping on his ear. He squirmed and tried to stand up. How he became floor-parallel he had no idea, but the most horrible part was still ahead.

His precious coin rolled under one of the machines. Yes, the memory filled, the sun-like shinning beloved piece of precious metal was under a common mold ridden washing machine. The horror! He had to get it fas—The hell! Why is this idiot still standing on his ear?! What, can he see the World from up there? Or his house? It was his ear, for God's sake, not the Ferris wheel!

"SIR? SIR!!!" Ah, the jerk moved. Thank God! Now the coin. Right. It was under the red machine, the one that was crappy and ate his money two months ago. When he asked to be refunded the stupid woman responsible for the machines said she was sorry. Sorry his ass! He WORKED for those fifty cents! But that was in his angsty and depressing past. He had to walk forward, even if it meant walking without the soft light of the fifty cents he lost. Even Money-erm, Mana said so!

Anyway, he had to find the coin. Allen desperately jerked up ignoring his red and inflated ear. All he could see was a small trembling and shaking grandma with blue hair. She bent down almost fracturing her spine, all that effort to pick up the quarter. Allen mentally squalled like a piglet hit by a train.

She wasn't really going to PICK UP the coin, and then INSERT it in the mashing machine to wash her goddam bloomers! WAIT!!! She was doing exactly that!!! He could not bear to see the bloody abduction! The granny bent even more, making her backbone arch like a camel's hump.

No! Don't pick it up! DON'T!!! That was his!!!!! "Lucky!" his foot! That was HIS quarter! Put it DOWN! Didn't her hag-ly mother teach to NOT touch things that didn't belong to her?! Put it down! Down, not up! NO! Don't insert it! DON'T!!! Agh! That bloody hag! And the boy fell on the floor shuddering in a noble and bitter weeping.

"Hey, little guy!" Allen glanced up. A college boy. Now what? Did he want coins too? Did he? 'Cause he wouldn't give them away! Bite that, College Boy! And Allen got up prepared to defend his pockets. The hag was slurping some ice cream now, dirtying her long, old fashioned nose. He'll have to ask Kanda about Voodoo and burn thusly her hair. Anonymously.

"Hey, little buddy, sorry for ironing your ear with my boot, I swear on sweet God I didn't see you!" And the College Boy started sucking his lollipop. Yeah, right. Sorry his ass. If he was sorry he wouldn't look so damn happy!! And why was Allen sitting on the bench? Between the College Boy and Blue Hag nonetheless! And why, WHY in the bloody beep was Blue Hag's the ice cream dripping on his lap?!? And come to think of it his ear still hurt after the elephantine College Boy trampled it. Was it broken?

Allen tried to move his ear. Wait. How does one move an ear? Muscles of course! Yeah, why didn't he think about it before?! YEAH, RIGHT!!! Ears don't have muscles! They're cartilaginous! There is no way he could make them move! And why did he want to move them in the first place? To imitate Dumbo? Or to impress the blue haired hag? Or to get his quarter back? Who knows.

He plopped on the dirty chair and stared stupidly at the centrifugal rotating of the machine. Sometimes he could see his yellow-black polka boxers and the image slowly burnt into his eyes. Wait. He remembered putting them into the basket. His basket. Not Hag's machine. Why was his underwear in Hag's machine?! He shuddered and turned toward her to ask her this burning question. The hag smiled in a toothless grin. Oh well. He'll just ask for the underwear later.

The College Boy (Who was taller that Allen will ever be) was texting someone, sucking on his thinning lollipop fiercely. Sometimes he would shift his legs and get the hair out of his eyes and exclaim "No way!" in a whinny voice. Allen sighed. He had to be at the madhouse in twenty minutes and he still hasn't bought tea.

Aha. It finally stopped! Allen took everything out into his basket, double checking for his yellow underwear. Yup, there it was. Wait. Then why did Hag have the same—

No way.

____________

They were drinking tea. Or that's what Allen planned to pretend. The guard was too big to even think of fitting into that chair. He was fidgeting as if two point five rats were biting his ass. Allen smiled like a host and offered a chipped cup filled with something murky.

"Well then. Marlboro-san, you brought it in, didn't you?"

The guard chocked and started to cough spasmodically. Allen smiled again and filled his cup again. The guard started coughing some more. Just what was in that cup?!

"Marlboro-san…You ok?"

"Marlboro-san? Me?!"

Allen sighed. He was trying to establish a 'connection' with this man, to ease his own job and 'pain.' For that he needed to give him a cute nickname. Too bad this gorilla in disguise wasn't getting it.

"Well, you see… You smoke Marlboro, right? So… You're Marlboro-san!" He sent the man an impossibly bright smile. The guard looked away, frowning. He started tracing the wooden pattern on the table with a finger.

"But here everybody smokes Marlboro! So it wouldn't be differe… Wait, that's beside the point! Why would you call me by a cigarette brand?! My name's George! And I don't even Like Marlboro! I like Camel!"

What an annoying guy! Camel, Marlboro, Banana Hammock! Did it matter?! He had to establish a connection, no a Siamese-like fusion between their bodies!! And Allen glared at the picky man. Of course he did it mentally. Physically he smiled and softly proposed:

"Then you wouldn't mind if I called you Camel-san?"

The man almost spat the suspicious liquid outside. He was drowning. The cheap and tea stained cup trembled on the table. Strange, cow-like sounds filled the air. Allen smiled again and cocked his head.

"Camel-sa—"

"AGH! Don't call me that!" He got up and wiped his rapidly reddening face. Then he grabbed the duffel bag and threw it in Allen's arms. The boy grinned. He would have saved an extra packet of tea and two sugar cups if the man left earlier. But he at least saved money on the "items" he needed for his Evil Plan (Kanda + Shower= Satisfied Allen).

There was a saying… If the Mountain can't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed will come to the Mountain. The only problem was to decide who the Mountain was. And Muhammad. Well, Allen could be Muhammad. He liked those snail-like hats. The mountain was Kanda. Yup, definitely. He looked at the thick ring of hose. And at the two gallons worth of antibacterial soap. And he grinned.

____

Kanda had to be vomiting now. Or digging a secret tunnel. Or trying to escape through the secret tunnel. Hah… Maybe he was sleeping? Allen yawned and looked at his watch. He bought it at a thrift store for a half price. Six thirty. Maybe Kanda was sleeping after all. Maybe Allen could sleep too, in a nice cotton bed…

Then what the hell was he doing above Kanda room, stuck between bifurcations of air vents? There were no moaning people this time; it was too early after all. Too bad. He wasn't as stupid as to pay for those badly made porn films. Why would he if he knew a much better way of satisfa… Wait. This wasn't right. These were private thoughts. And he was doing his job right now.

The boy sneezed.

Was it possible that pollen got in here? He heard about alligators getting in water conducts, and even white marijuana growing in water conducts, but he has never heard about pollen getting in water conducts. Wait, he wasn't in a water conduct, he was in an air conduct. And that was important because…?

Ah. Kanda moved. When Allen finally had enough logic to actually open the lid of the vent-hole he could see Kanda moving about in his cell, splashing his face with water. Ah, he wasn't cleaning his teeth. Allen frowned. The cheapest toothbrush would cost him about… a dollar. That meant … Oh well. If his job required it…

He sneezed again. Damn pollen.

Now Kanda was… Combing his hair! Allen's eyes almost popped out. That jerk was actually using the comb! He grinned. This was even more interesting to watch than moaning people, more interesting than that stupid Borat thing, even more interesting that watching a giraffe learning to walk!

The point was: It was touching! It was touching to see that he, the dedicated medic (Part time) and psychologist (Full Time) put his budget on the line and MADE PROGRESS!!! And he didn't waste money on it! His grin became almost inhumane as he imagined Kanda clean, shaved, and toothbrushed. Even if the latest wasn't a word.

How inspiring! He had seen Japanese dramas where dedicated teachers save the 'precious' life of a delinquent student. He had seen dramas where dedicated police officers side with people and gently show the road to prison to the unfortunate souls! But he had never seen a psychologist/physician put his budge- no, LIFE! On the line and save the goddam and lice ridden patient!

Allen closed his eyes, licking his lips with satisfaction. So beautiful. He really needed to rethink his career. Hollywood and Japan productions were in desperate need of good movie directors. No, he didn't see advertisements in the paper. Who needs advertisements if one had seen the sorry toxic movie waste like Hancock, Borat and That Stupid Chihuahua movie?!

Wait, he was here to bring the Mountain to Muhammad or something, not discuss his indubitably amazing talent in producing.

So. He had to shower Kanda. Allen licked the lips again, this time to gather his concentration. He gripped the hose. Somehow he had to connect it to some water source while Kanda was gawking yonder. So. Ummm, he'll just jump in, connect the hose to the faucet and stick the hose and the water torrent into Kanda's bacteria ridden face.

Yeah. The only problem was who'll hold Kanda down? Marlboro-san was now somewhere with Gorilla God and Alberta, the woman with nice butt. So. He smiled, a bit discouraged. So. He'll have to do it alone, like a solitary wolf. He peeped down.

Kanda was doing pushups, ignoring the hair that was slowly escaping from the white, dirty tie. Allen gawked. Hoho, this was much more interesting than moaning people. That hair wasn't as dirty as before. Could it be that the comb, a small humane gesture made Kanda self conscious about his appearance?! And HE, Allen Walker triggered it?

Kanda grunted and stood up. One hundred of pushups, or so Allen counted. Why was he doing them? If he wanted to remain in form, he could merely ask Allen to bring him to the sport room. Patients were not denied the right to health. They could go daily to the 'garden' and run till they died. Kanda never requested to go outside. Strange. Why was he doing everything is secret?

The door opened, letting a tall and blond guard inside with a tray of food. Why wasn't it Marlbro-san? In one second everything changed. Kanda, a minute ago calm and confident, almost sane, was now in a corner barring his teeth and hissing like a Royal Cobra. The guard sneered and gripped the handle of the rubber stick. Allen gripped the margin of the vent. He could never even imagine something like that.

"Hello, little bitch. Don't tell me ya'll refuse eating again?"

Kanda bit his lips. The hair-tie finally gave up and slid from his hair, plopping softly on the ground. Allen gulped. Kanda looked fierce before, but now all that hair made him look like a wraith. He was extremely pale and an ardent hatred twisted his features. The guard chuckled and opened the lid to the 'main course.'

"Well, are ya coming or not? Don't piss me off or ya'll end up in the infirmary again."

Allen clenched his teeth. No wonder Kanda hated this place and Allen, a part of the system, too. The guard put the lid down and paced heavily toward the hissing man. Kanda's fingers tensed and he slowly scratched the wall behind him. He arched his back like a lynx and snarled.

Before the guard could even blink, Kanda jumped toward the open door in one huge leap. The next moment he was on the floor, writhing in pain, trying to kick the guard that was gripping his ankles.

"Ya little bitch… I warned ya."

With one crisp jerk he twisted Kanda's ankle backwards. A loud and clear snap was heard before the injured man started rolling on the floor, shrieking like a half crushed dog. The guard got up on the knees and spat sideways, trying to master his trembling hands. He wiped his mouth and cursed seeing one of his teeth glistening on the dirty floor.

"Fucker. You damn bitch. I'll show you how to play nice."

He slowly stood up, gripping the side of the table for support. Kanda was merely whimpering now, still crawling toward the half opened door. He stopped when a boot landed on his head, pressing the heel into the temple.

Allen almost screamed. He could never endure seeing physical violence in any circumstances. Blood made him sick. And now he was looking at a humiliated and browbeaten man that wanted out of this goddam place. The boy jumped down, ignoring the three meter height of the ceiling. He heard a loud crack and realized that he broke the table. Not that it mattered now.

The guard half turned and stumbled backward holding his face. Allen pushed him again, slamming all his body mass into him. Allen could sense Kanda lifting his torso up, trying to stand up on his healthy leg. The guard caught one of the boy's arms and gripped it painfully.

"What the hell! Are ya trying to—ugh." And he fell on his four, holding his manberries. Allen felt his breath hitting his head like a hammer, trying to escape. He panted and then started screaming hoarsely, trying to attract attention of those who were outside. If somebody came in then maybe, maybe they will be able to get the guard out.

Three seconds. Two seconds. One second. Allen froze. The guard was behind him, his face scratched and bleeding. He was smiling in a hideous, twisted snarl. His lips were full of blood and he was missing two front teeth. Allen backed into the wall and closed his eyes shut. He could see red through his eyelids.

"Cutie, ya ok? That fucker didn't touch you?"

Allen carefully opened his eyes. The pink face of Marlboro-san was in front of him, patting his head.

"You ok? You look like you're gonna throw up!" And he was going to throw up. Instead he just clutched Marlboro-san's hand and whispered hoarsely:

"Kanda… Is he o-ok? I think his leg is broken. I need to look at him."

"Kid, don' worry about that one. He's a tough guy, he'll live."

Thank god!!! He was OK! He was unconscious and that was good. At least he didn't feel the pain. And Allen smiled relieved, trying to get up on his shaking legs. He fell down. The guard lifted him by the armpits.

"Oi, are you crying?"

"Uh?" Ah, he was crying. He didn't even know it. The salty water slid to his chin. Allen rubbed his face with the sleeve.

"Really kid, you are one huge idiot. That guy was three times bigger than you! He could kick you and you'd be dead!" Marlboro-san was rumbling on, his big large face twitching in a barely held smirk. The laugh wrinkles in corner of his eyes multiplied and he laughed softly in his palm.

"You are one crazy fucker, kid. You know that?"

Allen laughed softly covering his eyes. What was he thinking, really? He never cared about Kanda before. That man messed his life up. And now he was protecting him. Why? He looked at Kanda through the crack between his fingers.

Marlboro-san lifted the man up. One of his feet was dangling powerlessly. His head rolled to one side and he cracked his eyes open. Allen held his breath. He was waking up. He was waking up in the guard's arms. And he hated guards for sure. Allen just had to keep his attention elsewhere.

"Kanda?" Allen tried to smile standing next to the guard. The injured man blinked a few times, not sure what happened. Allen touched his arm.

"Kanda? Can you hear me?" The man frowned and moved his lips. Then he suddenly turned his face up, meeting the one who was carrying him. He immediately started jerking and twirling in the big guy's arms, ignoring Allen's pacifying noises. The guard reddened with effort of holding this one man in place. He finally put him on the bed and backed away.

"I jus' don' see why you take his side, kid. He's one ungrateful fucker. I won't be amazed if he rapes you when he gets the chance."

Allen smiled and waved his hands.

"He's just scared. Just scared. And he won't rape me. He won't for sure."

The guard hmp-ed and paced to the door.

"Just holler if you need anything. Or if the bastard touches you. Got it?" Allen nodded. He wouldn't call him anyway. He just needed some time with Kanda, that's all. Just some time. Kanda was scared and tired, and the result was aggression. That was the simplest psychological deduction he could make.

The door was closed and Allen turned to the only other soul in the cell.

"Kanda, does your leg hurt? If it doe—"

He was interrupted by a glare that mad Death pale.

"What the hell do you want? Get out of here, idiot! You heard what the bastard said, didn't you?"

Allen approached the bed and sat next to Kanda's legs. He smiled a bit tired and lifeless, like a rag doll.

"Kanda, you should shut up for the next half of an hour. I didn't come here to be insulted by you. Just—" he closed his eyes and whispered, "just shut up." Kanda tch-eed and turned on one side, trying to ignore pale fingers that were scrutinizing his foot. It was numb.

"Kanda, sit up, will you? Put your feet on the floor. Both feet." Kanda murmured curses through his teeth. He sat up as he was told and stared stupidly at the yellow bucket with hot water in front of him.

"Midget. Oi midget! What the hell are y—"

"I told you to be quiet. I need to put your foot in its rightful place. So don't interrupt my work, or I'll kick your eye out."

Kanda smirked. Allen could feel his belittling smirk plastered over that stupid face. Idiot.

"And my name's not midget, it's Allen." The boy put an elbow in the bucket. His face concentrated.

"It's good enough. Even babies won't complain."

Kanda frowned. Just when he was about to say something both his legs were put into the water. Allen was on his knees, washing his feet. Kanda gulped.

"Wha—"

"Shut up."

"Oi, I'm—"

"Shut up!"

"I can do that myself—"

" Shut up."

"Don't shut me up!"

"Shut up."

"Oi, you deaf?!"

"Shut up."

"Shut up."

"Shut up- wait!"

"Shut up."

"Kanda!"

"Shut up."

"Oh well, at least-"

"Shut up."

"..you aren't kicking."

"Shut up."

"I'm done."

"Shut u…" Kanda looked at his right foot. It was bandaged and an ice pack was resting over it. Allen followed his gaze and smiled.

"Don't worry, it's not broken. I just put it in its place. I'm sure you will be able to walk normally in a few days."

"That's not the point. I thought you were a psychologist. Why the hell o you know abo—"

Allen stopped him with a frown.

"I worked part time in my master's practice. That damn womanizer was drunk so he destroyed more bones than put them back. I had to learn fast from him so he wouldn't end in prison." He lifted the bucked and dunked the water into the toilet. He watched it go down the drain. Kanda lifted a brow.

"Although I wouldn't mind if he were to be imprisoned."

"Do you hate him that much?"

Allen threw him a glance. Then he looked at the hose.

"Yes I do. And… Don't you want to shower? You're dirty, you know."

Kanda opened his mouth to throw up who knows what horrible commands when Allen simply threw the hose at him.

"If you're that shy, you can use this." And Allen paced toward the door.

"Oi midget."

Allen stopped. He made a fist. He glared at the door as if Kanda was it.

"Shut up, jerk. How many---NO WAY!!! A SHOVEL???"

That's right. Just before Allen felt the metal kissing his head he blinked two times wondering where Kanda got the shovel from. Then he fell on the ground and closed his eyes. His mind, brain and cranium were numb. His eyelids were black and had white dancing spots. He felt himself being carried. Then he faintly discerned the smell of a car.

No way.

There was no way.

He just got kidnapped by his own patient.

______________________________

Even though I don't like the chapter I love the part with the polca dotted yellow underwear. That is one sick underwear. I wonder if there is a healthy male who would wear that atrocity.


	5. Chase

Sanatorium: Chase.

Allen stared in front of him, drowsily yawning. This will be a quiet, shovel free day. Yeah. Today had to be Saturday. He'll go to the thrift store today. That hag who gave him a discount on winter coats will probably sell him something for a great price. Yeah. He stared at the ceiling. And frowned.

It was gray and furry. The ceiling was! Moreover, it smelled like leather and was too close to his face. Strange. He tried to sit up but rapidly discovered that it was impossible. His whole body ached like there was no tomorrow. The ceiling groaned and shook a bit. Allen whimpered. This had to be a bad dream. He turned his head to one side and froze. He saw a steering wheel. And a speed-telling board, or so he called it. And a small plastic Hawaiian doll.

It wasn't his room.

Allen closed his eyes. Did he have a hangover? Yeah right. He only drank tea. MAYBE TEA DID IT! No, that was ridiculous. Cheap, 99 cent tea couldn't do something like this. Only that Royal Gray with Bergamot could. And he tasted it only once, when he was invited to a transvestite club. Maybe if he could find it at the thrift store… Maybe the Three Cents had it… Or that place downtown, what was it called… aha! The Lice market. They must have that tea really cheap, 70% off and maybe...

That wasn't the problem!!!

He shifted and recalled that in these situations he was supposed to whimper.

"Ughhh…"

No, that sounded like a cow fart.

"Agh…"

Better, if this stupid thing wasn't stuffed in his mouth. WAIT! He was gagged! He wasn't supposed to whimper if he had a sock in his hole. Thank God! His acting always sucked.

He lifted his head and depressingly discovered that he was tied up with a piece of yellow hose. That wouldn't let him move for sure. Stupid hose. He tried to wriggle out of it, but just felt like a huge stupid butterfly that couldn't open the zipper on his cocoon. Maybe if he could bite into it, crawl away and find a sexy lady to take the sock out of his mouth…Yeah, something like James Bond.

By the way, James Bond never wore prescription glasses. Why was that? And why was he thinking about James Bond again? Ah, right. He was trying to escape. From what? The hose. Why? Because he was captured? That didn't sound right. Captured people usually panic and scream and piss their pants. He didn't do any of it. And the captor had to be nearby in abduction cases.

He peered at the steering wheel. No captor. Not even a Card Captor. Not even Mr. Captor. Wait, that was computer software or something, that couldn't be possible present. Card Captors could. They had magic staffs after all.

So the captor wasn't nearby. That made his logic tense and barf some strange ideas. He jerked again, trying to get out of the cocoon. Instead of loosening, that damn thing smiled deviously and gripped his windpipe.

Stupid, bloody hose! Couldn't it grab some other pipe? Like a water pipe, or a smoking pipe? Did it have to be HIS pipe? The hose nodded. Yep. It was a yellow sadist, this damn pip—no, hose.

"Ugh…" Screw the acting skills. He was in some small furry room with no ventilation. The only things present were a wheel and a wild and rabid hose. That it had rabies he could tell for sure. The hose acted exactly like Cross when he was bitten by that adorable rat with sparkling red eyes and small pointy teeth Allen found in a toilet bowl.

Cross yelled that the rat was poisonous and told him to throw it away. Allen frowned at the memory. He put the rat in Cross' shoe when he was asleep. Let him succumb to the power of cuteness! Yeah, right. That bastard didn't find the rat cute at all. He just climbed the wall and refused to get down until the rat was peeled off of his toe. Cross had bad taste in living things.

The boy shifted again. His gaze fell on the Hawaiian dancer. Those things were usually found in cars. Why would anyone watch a half naked babe with grass stuffed on her hips…Whoa. NOW he got it. And besides, the presence of the doll meant only one obvious thing.

He had to be in a car. And he didn't have a car. Then it was somebody else's car. Like…Marlboro-san's car. Or GiGi's car. Or just a car. He suddenly shuddered. There was a movie about a man killed in the car and sent to the bottom of the lake. The boy hastily turned almost screwing his head out, peeping at the window. THANK GOD!!!! There was no fish floating about. No sharks either.

So he was in someone's car on the GROUND not in some muddy lake. That was good. Now he had to analyze the situation and even possibly find a solution.

One. He was in a car, on the GROUND(!) with no captors around. If they were here he could at least ask them to untie him so he could take a leak.

Two. He was gagged and tied up to his teeth, with a brand sock stuffed in his mouth. How much did it cost? And it was Adidas, nonetheless!

Three. He had no idea why and where he was. Maybe if he got out of the rabid hose cocoon he could hitchhike back to the loon house.

Four—

The driver's door opened letting in a tall man in black jeans and a hood. Allen held his breath. The sock muffled it already, but just in case he drew air in through his nose. He heard that captors wear jeans and hoodies to hide their faces, or maybe imitate a rapper. The man grunted displeased with something. He put his keys in the ignition and cursed.

Yup. He was a captor alright. Only captors could swear with so much juice and fiber. The man turned to him and Allen screamed in the sock. It was Kanda! Thank GOD!!! He'll save him! Now he just had to pray to some deity for the late return of the captor.

"MMMM!! MM!! Mmmm… MMM! MMMM?!"

Kanda frowned. Allen jerked. Why wasn't that idiot helping? Maybe he was so stupid he couldn't understand his obvious body language? Ah, that's right; the sock was still in his mouth!

"MMM! Mmmm…MM!"

The man blankly raised one brow and turned away. In a few minutes the trembling car and the soft turns that made Allen hit his nose informed the victim that Kanda was driving. Why didn't he untie him?! That ungrateful jerk! Allen jerked again. This time the hose started choking him like a rapist.

"MMMM!! MM!! MMMMM!!!"

Kanda didn't even turn his face to him. Allen suddenly saw a red dot on his retina. Then two. Then seven. Then it was all red. He felt his head exploding. There was static noise in his ears and it increased in decibels every fraction of second. He tried to cry out but the hose only gripped harder. His nails dug painfully in his side, scratching the skin. He saw his blood rushing into the eyeballs, popping them out.

Then it was all better.

He saw Kanda above him. His hair hit Allen in the eye like a knife. The hood fell off Kanda's head and Allen found himself wondering why the man was so pallid. The hose wasn't gripping him anymore and he weakly moved his arms. Kanda took the sock out of his mouth and Allen frowned. Why was his saliva red and thick?

"Can you breathe?"

Allen nodded. He swallowed the water in his mouth and started coughing. Kanda watched him impassible. That stupid jerk. He could offer him some water at least!! Or juice. Juice was much better. Why didn't the jerk offer him juice!? Cheap bastard!

"Ka-kha…Cough-khgh…"

"Shut up. It's annoying."

Allen almost swallowed his tongue in indignation. It wasn't his fault he was coughing!!! That was a normal process of the body that came to its senses after being half sent to Kingdom Come!! And, let's face it, it almost did come!!! And there was nothing he could do about it!!!

And he started coughing desperately, faking a severe flu outburst. Kanda turned to him again and opened his mouth to let out a slimy excuse of a word. Idiot. And Allen coughed in his face with all his might.

"What the he-AGH!!!!!"

Allen victoriously smirked.

"Now you'll have tuberculosis. Thank me, idiot. I provided it for y—"

He stopped his command seeing Kanda's face. It was white with anger. And almost lip-less. Allen gulped. There was no one to save him from the irate man's anger. So maybe, just maybe this once he could keep his venomous remarks to himself? Yeah, sounded like a plan.

"Kanda, you look like a constipated hag."

God. He and his tongue.

In two seconds Allen was sorry the car was on the GROUND, not the lake. Then he became sorry that the Kingdom didn't come. Kanda was slowly pressing his knee into Allen's chest. A machete was softly nipping at his throat, making it extremely hard to swallow. Their noses almost touched.

"Listen here, little shit. While you're with me keep your tongue in your ass. If I hear some fucking comment from you…"

Allen gulped staring at the man's teeth. Then eyes. They were blue and haughty. Kanda sneered and lifted the machete above the boy's eye. Allen started sweating furiously.

"…who knows, maybe I will rape you, just like that damned guard predicted."

When the man got off of him and sat in the driver's seat, Allen looked at his fingers. They were blue and shaking. For the first time he was scared. He was scared shitless. He heard his teeth tap dancing and even his tongue turned to lead, giving him a weird taste. His ribcage contracted and expanded furiously, not even giving the heart a chance to catch up.

He WAS abducted. By Kanda. The man didn't come to save him. He was taking him away.

WHERE?!?!?!?

He suddenly felt the urge to yell and jump out of the car. His brain was pulsing with red and black lights, yelling Alarm! Alarm!! He stared wordlessly at the window. Woods. No people, no houses; not even a cat! He was godlessly far from any human presence!

"Don't even think of it, idiot."

Allen froze with the hand on the door handle. Kanda was watching him through the mirror. He let go of the handle and heard a loud click of closing doors. Allen slowly crawled into a corner, drawing the feet as close as possible. He was trapped. The car was driving too fast to just jump out of it. And Kanda wasn't as stupid as to go with fifty miles over the speed limit to raise the suspicions of the police.

Police.

His eyes snapped alertly. His phone had to be in the pocket. He slowly slid his hand inside and froze.

"Looking for the phone? It's right here, Moyashi."

Allen rapidly turned his head only to see his blue old-fashioned cell phone flying outside the window. The crunch of broken plastic and glass hit his eardrums. He clenched his jaws. That bastard! That idiotic camel! He bit back a curse together with his lower lip. He felt it trembling in anger and frustration.

"Sit down, Moyashi. Put your seatbelt on. Now."

Suddenly the boy snapped. He felt like a caged animal that had to bite back.

"No," he said, his voice thick with tension. Kanda's eyes darkened.

"I said _get down_."

"No," Allen repeated, clenching his teeth. The car suddenly screeched and stopped at the road's margin. The boy's heart sank. Kanda got out of the car slamming the door. Allen jumped to the door without hesitation trying to open it. And was dragged back by strong, brutal arms.

He cried out when one fist hit him in the stomach making him see butterflies. Then the second hit came, this time in his sternum. His breath stopped and he just mewed weakly, paralyzed. He heard the man stop and curse. Then a hand clenched his neck from behind.

He saw himself being torn from the car's seat. Something grabbed his hair and forced his chin up. He saw Kanda's pale face next to his. He was behind Allen, towering over him. The man grasped his arms, vexed them at the boy's back and suddenly jerked them up.

"AGH!"

A humming pain filled Allen's face, brain, and body. The bastard dislocated his arms from elbows down. Another snap and the boy fell on the leathered seat. He slowly opened his mouth to yell. The only sound that came out was a trembling sob.

"Shut up."

Kanda's voice was low, growling. Like a killer's. Why was he doing this? Why did he hurt him? It hurt! Couldn't he see how much it hurt?! Was he blind?! It tore him apart so much that Allen's brain filled with desperation_._

_I will kill you, _Allen suddenly remembered. Kanda said that before. And the guard warned him too. Was he really going to kill him? Was he? Or it was all a huge, stupid joke that he invented to piss him off?

He gasped feeling a cold hand on his stomach. It slid under his clothes making the boy's eyes widen in fear. Kanda was going to… No. No! That couldn't be! The hand slowly pressed his stomach in, making the boy tremble. He felt disgusted and scared. Then the fingers went up his chest, touching his sternum. Allen hissed and squinted.

"Tch. Your rib is broken. But your organs are ok."

Then something happened. Allen didn't understand it at first. Kanda was undressing, taking off a cotton T-shirt he wore under the hooded top. His chest was pale and well developed. Allen jerked back, crying in pain every time his arms touched something.

"Come here, idiot. I won't hurt you."

Yeah, right. Who was the person who just made him see Kingdom Come, second season?! Allen bit his lip and hissed when Kanda touched his arm.

"You wanna travel with a rib lose? Come here little shit, I'll just bandage you!"

Bandage him? BANDAGE HIM?! Allen suddenly wanted to bite Kanda like an animal. The bastard abducts him, kicks his ass, and now cosplays Mother Teresa!!! That hypocritical Samaritan! That Goliath! Absalom!

"Come here, turd. I can't wait forever!"

Oh yes he could. It's not like his hair would fall off. And Allen cussed through the teeth another biblical reference. Then he stopped. There WAS a way of escaping

"Put my arms back. I promise I will listen to you," he croaked. Yeah, right. Like hell he'll listen.

Kanda lifted his brows.

"Deal. But if you try to run away I will break them."

Allen paled. The man just guessed his thoughts. He nodded anyway, slowly crawling out of the car. Kanda gingerly clasped his humerus. A dry snap and the boy fell to the ground, cringing. It hurt. God, how it hurt. Kanda took touched the second arm. Allen weakly patted his hand.

"Wait. Please, just for a bit! It hurts so badly…"

Kanda frowned. He looked away. An opening. The boy suddenly shot up, hitting Kanda in the crotch with his good arm. The man ohh-ed and fell limply, like an old Jelly-O from its cup.

"Ya basssstard.." he hissed, gripping his nuts.

Allen was too far to hear that. He was skipping away like the hell was after him. And the hell was after him. He knew that Kanda will be up and chasing him at some point. And Allen clearly wasn't the champion of Marathon.

He ran through the bushes, jumping over the small ones and tearing the bigger ones through with his body. Something hit him in the eye and he fell, biting the dirt. The dislocated arm made him cry out hoarsely. It was bent at an unnatural angle. The tears blurred the image.

He rolled the sleeve up with his teeth and the good arm and almost wept looking at the inflated red joints. Clasping the forearm he winced at the pain. A snap and the bones cracked, happy to be back in their sockets. Allen fell face-first on the grass, exhausted.

It was hard to put the bones in. It was even harder to dislocate them. How did Kanda do it? Did he have some medical background? And how did he know his organs were ok? Come to think of it, he knew nothing about that man.

A murmur of the wind in the bushes made him jump up. His legs trembled. That's right. Kanda was after him. He had to run before that freak caught him.

Run where?

Allen closed his eyes. He concentrated. Maybe he could hear the noise of the cars and people's voices. Nothing.

"There you are, little bastard!"

Allen didn't even turn his face to see where the voice came from. He was already running like a horse chased by wasps. The trees parted in front of him, letting him into a small sandy canyon. He tripped and fell, biting his tongue. He could hear Kanda move swiftly behind him, agile like a creature that knew the place very well. That made him shudder, horrified.

Allen was up and running again in a fraction of a second. A sharp pain in his side made his breath impossible to draw in or exhale. He clasped his chest with one arm and ran again. His mind refused to participate in this madness. His face was scalded by the blood his heart pumped at immeasurable speed. The only thought of stopping made him run even faster.

Suddenly he saw Kanda above him, on one wall of the canyon. The man was ahead of him, jumping like a goat from point to point. Two more seconds and Allen found himself running back, bent in pain. He wasn't inhaling the air; he was hissing it in, drying the teeth and the tongue. Kanda was close, Kanda was behind him, and that made him crazy with fear.

Then he saw it. A small gravel path was slithering through the trees. It looked like it was made by human hands. It even had a small wooden address plaque on the nearest tree. Maybe there were people there!

Allen wearily hastened, stumbling and hitting his feet. It was painful and raw. He glanced at his legs and almost laughed. He was wearing socks. No shoes or other kind of footwear were present. In his shock he hadn't felt the pain. That is, until now.

The path was climbing into the rocky hills and the boy cursed his luck. The granite rocks were dug out and put with their sharpest side up, especially for his sake. He bit back a cry when one stone slipped under his foot and made him stumble clumsily ahead, his face flying to the ground.

The earth was salty and red. Allen spat out the sand and stared at the sticky pink saliva that connected his chin to the ground. His gaze was suddenly arrested by an ant that was crawling out of the pink saliva puddle. Allen suddenly wondered if the ant realized that it just came out of a disgusting lake. He groaned and got up. The jolt of pain in his side and feet almost blinded him. He started sobbing, too tired to care about being a 'man' and those stupid and shallow limitations about men's emotions.

It seemed like there was no end to this chase. Allen suddenly caught himself wondering what would happen if Kanda caught him. Maybe he'll really break his arms. Or maybe he will-- No. He had to concentrate on running away from that man. He didn't run all this way just to be caught. His body disagreed.

Another turn and Allen froze. His eyes and brain refused to believe this hard evidence under their noses. The path, squeezed between two stones taken from Stonehenge, was gnawing at a vertical granite wall. There was no way. No bloody way. He dumbly stared at the dead end in front of him.

"Really, I knew you were stupid, but I never expected you to be so fucking retarded."

Allen slowly turned his head. The horror hit him straight in the face. In two seconds he had the granite wall glued to his back. Kanda smirked and crossed his arms. He wasn't even panting.

"How could you run here when the sign said 'dead end,' retard?"

Allen opened his mouth and shut it with a loud 'clang'. Realizing the position he was in he couldn't help but shudder. Fear invaded him with a new wave when Kanda took a step forward. The boy clawed the wall behind him, getting the tiny particles under the nails. If he could just escape his situation he would go to church every day and beg to be baptized every other week. Even on Mondays!

"Do you remember what I said will happen if you run?"

Kanda's tone was pure evil enjoyment. Why didn't the lightning strike him down? Why didn't God do something? Allen snapped out of his thoughts when he suddenly felt he man dangerously close to him. Kanda was towering over him with a strange expression. He cocked his head and looked at Allen's feet.

Maybe if he could hit him again, like the last time he cou—

"Don't even think about it, little shit."

Allen palpitated fearfully. He slowly undid his fist, letting the hand fall limply to his side. He suddenly wanted Kanda's mercy. Maybe somehow the man would let him go. Maybe he will feel that this 'little shit' was too pathetic to be worthy of his attention. The feeling made Allen shrink with shame. It was so petty he slowly slid to the ground, unconsciously trying to hide.

"Do you remember what would happen if you ran?" Kanda repeated, cocking his head mockingly to one side.

Allen gulped loudly. He couldn't believe that he actually hoped Kanda forgot about that part. He shuddered imagining his arms dead, throbbing with pulsating pain. He swallowed again, wiping the sweat that invaded his eyes.

"Afraid?" Kanda suddenly was way to close, smirking directly in the three inch distance from the tip of the boy's nose. Allen jerked back and yelped, gripping his head. The granite wall didn't even wink. God, he felt stupid and humiliated. Why couldn't he remain calm and think—

"You should be."

That's why.

The man slowly gripped Allen's arms making the boy jerk back and hit himself again. The clasp grew tighter. Allen mentally saw Kanda's fingers getting into the skin of his arms, tearing that whiteness apart.

"Don't! Please don't!" he pleaded hotly, trying not to look at Kanda's face. He abruptly felt shame for his lack of dignity. Why was he pleading so embarrassingly? Why was he acting like some bloody coward? Why wasn't he acting like a 'man'?

"Get up, idiot. I won't stay here all day."

Kanda was up and walking away. Allen dumbly stared at his arms. A few bruises and blue fingerprint like dots, but no breaks. He raised his eyes, still not getting it. Kanda was walking away from him. Maybe he expected the boy to follow him like a beaten dog? As a response Kanda grunted and took his sandal off, shaking it.

Allen couldn't believe his mind and luck. The man was busy with something, clearing the escape route! How lucky is that?! He grinned happily. There was his big chance of running away. As if guessing his thoughts Kanda threw the sandal down, forcing his foot into it. He smirked.

"Come on; run if you can, idiot. And yeah, there are mountain lions here." He paced slowly again, clearly enjoying something invisible to Allen.

That idiot. That stupid bull. He'll eat his DUST!!! And a kick in those teeth of his!!!!

Allen slowly got up and made one pace.

Ah. That's why Kanda was so carefree. Allen slowly let himself fall to the ground, gripping his feet. His calves were red and twitching spasmodically. Even if he was quite ignorant in structure of the muscles he could tell that those things were not to be touched anytime soon. And the soles of his feet bled too. There was no way he could even crawl.

Yeah. WHY THE HELL WAS THAT PRICK SNORTING?!?!

Then realization hit him. Kanda said something about mountain lions. The boy glanced up, startled. No lions. But those animals could hide! They could hide and wait until Kanda—

"Kanda."

The man lazily turned to him, sneering.

"Kanda, please don't do that."

The boy's words were rushed, filled with intense fear. Kanda's smirk grew wider.

"Why? I thought y-"

"You know why, Kanda. Please don't make me feel even more humiliated than I am now!"

Kanda's face grew serious. He stopped smirking and those sadistic eyes became dead.

"I don't care about your fucking feelings, idiot."

Allen desperately clawed his useless legs.

"Kanda, don't leave me here. I beg you."

"Oh, now you be—"

"Yes. I do." He gritted his teeth. As a weak and unsympathetic response his left leg jerked, like a dying insect. The boy hung his head. He didn't care about his pride anymore. Large drops fell on his knees, making him wonder how his eyes could care so much water. God. He was pathetic. He hated Kanda, he hated his own fate, but most of all he hated himself.

"Then promise me, Moyashi. Promise me to cease your stupid efforts to escape."

Allen slowly looked away. His voice was broken.

"You know I cannot promise that, Kanda."

Silence uncomfortable sat between them, fidgeting her fat ass. Kanda brusquely bent and picked the boy up, throwing him on his shoulder. Allen gasped. He felt the broken rib giving in under his body's weight. He weakly hit Kanda's back with the fist, but the man only walked faster, ignoring the knee hits in his chest.

"Let-g-go!"

Kanda grabbed him by the belt and pulled him down, making Allen clasp his neck. The boy bit his lip, avoiding Kanda's eyes. The pain made him dizzy and weak. Yeah, it had to be that. He felt Kanda's arms under his ass, hoisting him up, and that made him shrink. Kanda's face was close and he could feel his skin's smell. It was a smell of a stranger; bitter, dark, not even a hint of that warm and sweaty miasma from the hospital was present.

Kanda walked fast, carefully avoiding the bushes. Once or twice he stopped, checking if Allen was asleep. It slowly started raining, the skies gray and old. The wind picked up too, hitting them with its wet tongue. It hit Allen in the back, wetting it with cold unwanted licks. He found himself pressing to the body of his captor, trying to futilely control the shaking of the body.

The pain picked up again, hitting him wave after wave. Allen sobbed mutely, hoping that the howling wind obscured his sounds. It didn't. Once or twice he saw Kanda tense and curse and grip him tighter. When the car finally stepped out of the blinding rain Allen couldn't help but groan with relief.

_____

Allen trembled under the gray furry blanket Kanda gave him. He listened to the stupid rain rapping on the car's roof. Kanda was changing. Grunting and cussing, he threw the wet jeans into the windshield.

Just for a second Allen saw his legs. They were long and pallid, as if the man never stepped out in the sun. He rapidly withdrew his gaze when Kanda got out of his shirt. The man was too skinny and tall. His muscles were well developed but had a sharp angle to it, not rounded or soft, like in most people's cases. Ah, that word...Bony. Yeah. Kanda was bony.

Another black shirt made appearance and Kanda bent forward, throwing his hair down. It was wet and dripping. Allen shuddered and drew his feet closer, hiding under the blanket. Sometimes the drops fell on his nose reminding him of the rain outside.

"Kanda…" he suddenly started, "why did you kidnap me? Are you going to ask for ransom?"

Kanda threw him a blank look and dove into the bag, taking out a pair of underwear and jeans. WHY WAS HE SCOFFING?!?!

"Yeah right. Dream on. You don't even cost two cents, little shit."

"I'm not a shit! And I'm not little!!! Stop insulting me!"

Kanda smirked and stood up.

"W-what the hell are you doing?!"

"Changing; so you better turn away, brat. You're too young to see something like this."

Allen almost choked on his own words.

"I'm TWENTY!! I'm not a brat!"

Kanda shrugged and slipped out of his boxers. Allen's face burned up. He turned away and muttered something about his "scarred innocent soul". Only when a heavy pack hit his face he realized Kanda was done.

"Change, idiot. I don't want to be stuck with a rotting vegetable on my hands."

"You're a vegetable, bastard!!!! I'm Allen, you retard! Say it with me: A-L-L-E—"

He shut his last letter when Kanda grabbed him by the collar.

"I warned you about the tongue, didn't I? Or are you really that desperate to—"

"Nonononono! I take my words back!"

Allen sighed relieved when the man drew back and opened a thermos with coffee. The smell made him salivate and crave for at least one cup of it. He gulped when Kanda poured himself one and put the thermos on the floor. Catching Allen's hungry gaze he extended his hand, holding the cup.

"Take it. Careful, it's hot."

Allen glanced at his face. It was pale and tired. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his hair made them even darker.

"You don't want it?"

Allen slowly took the cup. It WAS hot. The taste made him realize how hungry and tired he was.

"Thanks."

Kanda nodded and silently offered him a sandwich. The boy ate meticulously, licking his fingers like a cat. Then the noises went away and he fell asleep. The sandwich fell on the floor and Kanda frowned.

"Tch. That idiot."

Kanda slowly vexed his arms and sighed. The boy wasn't heavy when he carried him, and he smelled like honey. He took the comb Allen had given him and slowly drew it through his hair. He sighed again and tried to untangle it.

That Moyashi and his damn comb.

______________________________________

Ok. Ok. Ok. I know I am late. I usually update every week. Yeah. BUT I JUST HAD TO WRITE THIS FOR SUCH A LONG TIME!!!!And this is thirteen Word pages long and I'm tired and I wrote untill five in the morning yesterday and had to change almost everything today. Huh.


	6. Feet

Sanatorium: Feet.

There was a cat on the highway.

A dead one.

It was flat and dry, like a moldy Doritos chip. It didn't even smell. It just lay there, like a forgotten mitten. Allen pocked it with the tip of his foot. He had Kanda's sneakers on, and they were three sizes too big. Seriously, did Kanda use pesticides to grow his feet?! Come to think of it, pesticides were illegal!

He stared at the sneakers again. Really, what brand were those pesticides? Maybe Kanda could tell the dosage too. Maybe. He squinted. Ah, the shoes, right. Fifty bucks, yeah, not a cent more. If Kanda bought this pair from Macy's he probably spent more.

Wait.

The cost of the damned shoes wasn't the troubling question. Well, it kind of was, since he could really buy a decent pair with fif— The question wasn't _vital_. Yeah, vital was the word. There was _another_ troubling question that was vital, he could tell that for sure.

So! What the heck was he doing in the middle of this silent highway, poking a cat's skull with the tip of Kanda shoes? The boy frowned. Yeah, poor thing. How MANY cars had to run it over to make it so crispy? He pocked the cat again. This poor thing was probably laying here for ages. Yeah, like millennia!

"Oi midget, are you done?"

Ah, that's right. The boy frowned again. That jerk gave him ten minutes to move his legs a bit. Yeah. LIKE THAT WAS POSSIBLE!!!

That idiotic loon drove four hours straight! Not even a stop to eat, drink, or take a decent piss! And if that wasn't enough, he stopped in the middle of some ghost town with no escape routes to, well, how he put it… "MOVE YOUR SHITTY TENTACLES!!" Tentacles his ass!

He couldn't feel his legs from yesterday, plus his socks were now useless! And he wore them only seven months! They were practically new! Allen gritted his teeth. That bastard. Only to mock him he had given Allen his own shoes to 'move those stick of his'. So why was he ungrateful? Wasn't it kind of… _nice_ to have Kanda worry about his legs? Why was he staring at the huge sneakers so hatefully?

THERE WAS NO WAY HE COULD RUN AWAY WEARING THEM!!! He seriously resembled the McDonald's mascot, that demented clown. The boy scowled and kicked the cat again. How, how did his life take this crazy turn?! Did he do something unacceptable in his previous lives? You know, something really nasty…like patricide, or incest, or forgetting to pray before eating… He shuddered.

"Oi, brat! Are you done?! Get your ass in here, idiot!"

Idiot. Brat. That's what the jerk called him.

Him! The genius boy that skipped a few years to become a professional! (Took summer classes.)

Him! The little wonder that gave away his precious funds to ease the loon's suffering! (Bought him a cheap comb.)

Him! The wonderful and devoted doctor that risked his life to protect his patient! (Eavesdropped on moaning people and played with cockroaches.)

And how did the loony idiot repay him? Kidnap! Asphyxiation! Mutilation! Vandalism! Ah! The bloody coward! That dastardly coyote! Herod*!

"Are you done there?! I called you seven times already!"

Oh, my. The coyote sounded pissed. Too bad. Allen smugly waited to be called for the eighth time. He demonstrative leaned on the tree, staring at Kanda who was waiting in the car. Allen grinned widely making sure Kanda could see his back teeth. He arched his eyes in a smile that could kill a shark. He even waved at him, like a rabid monkey.

"GET OVER HERE, LITTLE ASS!!"

Allen was now shaking with laughter. He knew Kanda wouldn't come out of the car with his bare feet— the only shoes he had were now engulfing Allen's tiny feet.

"I said: GET OVER HERE!"

Allen illustratively bent and looked around for the person Kanda called. He even put the palm above his eyes, creating shade, as if that motion could give him a vision of 200/200.

"QUIT SCREWING AROUND!!"

Allen stopped and "discovered" the car. He feigned amazement, slapping both his cheeks. He could see Kanda kicking himself in a blind fury, with spume at his ugly snout. That idiot deserved it! He really did!! What Allen didn't take in consideration was the fact that the car had wheels. Four of them. And a motor.

In three seconds he was stuffed in the back seat. Kanda was gripping his thin neck with steely fingers. His thumb painfully pressed the Adam's apple in, making the boy croak like a horny frog. Kanda sneered and pressed harder. Allen's mouth flew open. A transparent trace of saliva streamed down from the corner of his mouth. The boy's body went limp.

"That should teach you how to get on my bad side, fucking brat!"

He let Allen go and pulled the shoes off his feet. And that didn't give him a lot of trouble – the shoes practically fell off of Allen. Kanda incredulously stared at them. Then he shifted the attention on his own feet. Next to Allen's they seemed HUGE.

The boy groaned and opened his eyes. The car's ceiling stared at him, amazed at his stupidity. Pissing off Kanda wasn't a good idea. Well…no. Pissing off Kanda and _getting caught_ wasn't a good idea. Yeah, that sounded better. He sat up and coughed a lung out.

"Kanda, you bastard…I'll get you for this…" he croaked and gripped his throat. Kanda just glared and got into the driver's seat. That hairy fiend…

The car was moving again and Allen came to his senses bit by bit. He sat up and tried to think what the captives usually do in order to escape. He could see Kanda glancing at him though the mirror from time to time, so he just stuck his tongue at him. And really regretted it, trying to stop his nose from bleeding.

"Damn you, Kanda!" he hissed, stuffing his nose with cotton, "damn you! You will regret the very second when you kidnapped me! NO!! You will regret the second your sinful existence was introduced to this sorry planet!!"

Kanda shrugged.

"I don't remember that second."

Allen chocked in fury.

"THAT WAS JUST AN EXPRESSION!!!"

"You have a dumb expression, idiot. You look like a mad monkey."

"NOT THAT KIND OF EXPRESSION!!!"

"Tch. I don't care. You always sound stupid anyway. Are you sure you graduated from college?"

Allen cringed and gritted his teeth loudly. He gripped his head and eyed Kanda with smothering hatred.

"YOU! You…jerk! God, how I hate you! I will personally grip your throat one day and slowly, OH!-- ever so slowly I will insert the fingers into your trachea! Then—"

"That's disgusting, idiot. Besides, you won't be able to reach my throat. And your fingers are weak."

"Can't I DREAM?!?!"

"You have nasty dreams. And pretty unrealistic too. Just like that Hokage wannabe."

"What do you mean, unrealistic?! I swear I—"

"I swear too, every day."

"Shut UP!!"

"Ok."

"Really?!"

"No."

"AGH!! I can't take it anymore…"

The boy plopped face down on the back seat. He really couldn't take it anymore. After all the yelling his throat was sore and sandy. And the soles of his feet started hurting again. It was unbearably hot in the car but he didn't feel like opening the window. More like, he couldn't. He melancholically looked at the window.

"Kanda?"

The man glanced at him through the mirror.

"What?"

Allen closed his eyes.

"Nothing…"

Kanda shifted his attention to the road again. There was no police, no cities, no cars, and the amazing thing—no hitchhikers. Sometimes he met small things, like rabbits, and cats, and coyotes. Some just stared innocently before being hit by the car, others ran for their lives and were hit too, this time by a tree. Yeah, driving was fun…

When some clock in some house struck seven, Kanda saw every hint that he was entering a small town. He distinguished an old tavern that was situated on the outskirts of the town. It was secluded enough to be raided successfully. That'd do. He glanced at the boy in the back. He was sleeping, breathing softly. He looked fifteen.

Kanda opened the back door. It was already cold and dark outside. The boy scowled in the sleep and grasped his knees, pulling them up to the teeth. Kanda felt a strong desire to hit him with a frying pan.

"Wake up, idiot… Seeing you cosplay a fetus is kind of disgusting. WAKE UP, DAMMIT!!"

"I can't eat anymore…"the boy murmured, shifting on the other side.

"Yeah, right! Where the hell did you learn that cliché line?! Can't you come up with something more original?!"

"Strawberries… Strawberries… are coming … to get me…."

Kanda stared at him with interest. The boy lifted his head, drowsily wondering why his cheek is wet with saliva.

"That's more original. Now, get your ass up, we're staying here for a few days."

"Wha…" Allen looked up and sneezed. "Kanda, why did you wake me up? I had such a good dream!" he whined, wiping his eyes. Then he yawned.

"Really, jerk, why the hell didn't you let me slee—OW!!"

The boy was tiptoeing like a constipated ballerina, trying desperately to get his ear out from Kanda's fingers. The man was dragging him toward a shabby house that was most likely populated by ghosts and stray cats.

"Kanda! Let me go! It really hurts! And…WAIT DAMMIT!! I have no shoes!! I'm BAREFOOT!!"

"Would you shut up? It's not like there is—"

"BROKEN GLASS!! Wah…KANDA!!!" The man glanced under his feet.

"Tch. How can you be so blind? Can't you see that broken glass on the ground? Really Moyashi, just tell me the truth, did you REALLY graduate from the university?"

"YOU are the one who's BLIND!!! And I graduated from COLLEGE!!!"

"I really doubt that."

The boy stared at him unblinking. Kanda smiled like a shark.

"Kanda, this really may be not the time," the boy murmured seriously, "but I'm still standing in that Broken Glass Spot. And it hurts. I'm not lying."

Kanda glanced at his feet. He shuddered inwardly. Allen was standing on his toes, trying to ease the impact of the shards on his skin. Kanda looked around to see just how wide the dangerous spot was. He blinked. The ONLY spot that the glass shards were infesting was the place where he dragged Allen in.

"Kanda, what the hell are you doing? Help me out here, will you? It really hurts!"

"Tch. You bring me only trouble."

" YOU are the one who kidnapped ME!!! Talking about MY luck is out of the question!!!

Kanda dismissed his words with a glance. He picked up the boy and carried him to the tavern. Kanda felt Allen's arms tense around his neck. The boy's nails dug painfully into the man's shoulders. He was glancing around, hopefully scanning the entire place.

"Oi, idiot," Kanda's voice sounded dead serious, "Don't even try to use the phone here."

He felt the boy going limp in his arms. Huh, the little fool actually believed he had a chance?

"Uh, dude… Do ya want sumthin'?"

Kanda blinked and concentrated his thoughts on the goblin in front of him. The goblin—no, the woman with whiskey breath stared at him sleepily, rubbing her right eye.

"Can I have a room here?" Kanda murmured cautiously. The woman smiled. She had a broccoli bit stuck in her front teeth.

"Sure can, sir."

And she extended her puffy hand, rubbing the fingers. Ah, international sign for money.

--------

Allen stared at the hole in the ceiling.

"Why is it," he whispered," I always end up in crappy places?"

Kanda scoffed and took off his shirt. He let the water in the shower run to make it hotter. Allen crossed his legs and looked at them.

"And my feet bleed again. Really Kanda, before kidnapping people you should have your brain checked. Who knows, maybe there is a deadly mushroom... or cancer…" he pocked his lip, dreamily looking at Kanda. The man shrugged.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Allen didn't move. His dreamy gaze intensified.

"I'm thinking positively."

"What?"

Allen rolled his eyes up so high Kanda could see his whites.

"Termites are frolicking on your rotting body…"

Kanda shuddered. He looked at the boy with a newfound respect and fear.

"Your eyeballs are being eaten by a lemur…"

"WHAT KIND OF TWISTED FANTASIES DO YOU HAVE?!?!?"

"Nah, the goats are better…"

"Oi, are you listening?! AND WHY GOATS?!"

"Your balls are shrinking…"

"Oi, leave my sexual parts alone. I'm warning you here, Moyashi!"

Allen was smiling looking at his own brain. Kanda was about to smack him when he snapped to reality.

"Ah. It's gone."

"Who's gone?!"

Allen opened his eyes. He stared at Kanda with disgust.

"What, you're still here? God, I KNEW it was too good to be the truth…"

"Oi. Seriously, if you don't stop it I'll kill you. I will."

Allen glanced at him, bored. Suddenly something on Kanda caught his interest and he cocked his head, staring at the half naked man. Kanda glared at him dangerously. The boy smiled, waving his hand.

"It's nothing, really. I just thought that your rotting body looked good with maggots in it."

"That's IT!!! YOU'RE DEAD!!!"

Allen jumped back, trying to get out of Kanda's range. The only thing he got out of it was the fact that his face was now pressed brutally into the pillow. He yelled, but the sound entered his own body, hitting him like an electric shock. It almost blinded him. He attempted to arch his back, escaping Kanda's grasp on his head and arms. Suddenly something popped. The boy froze. Kanda let him go, alarmed by the snappy sound.

"Oi, are you alive?"

Kanda's voice sounded worried. Allen felt that he was turned face up. He weakly tried to say something but the light hit his eyes. Then the lights were gone, and he could see Kanda's face above him.

"Oi, brat, where does it hurt?"

"… Can't…breath…"

Kanda's face lit with a moment of realization. He rapidly unbuttoned the boy's shirt and tch-ed. His rib. It was pressed inside. Damn it!!

"Try to relax," he murmured, cupping Allen's face with one hand. It was calloused and warm. Allen felt the second on his abdomen. He shut his eyes. It was impossible to relax! It was impossible to pull the air in, too! He softly hissed, letting the air out. Then he tensed. Kanda's hand was on his chest, touching the rib.

"Kand—mmm!"

The hand on his face muffled his cry. Then another dry snap and the breathing returned.

"Does it hurt now?"

Allen slowly pushed Kanda away. He sat up and clasped the shirt around his chest.

"I'm so tired of this…" he whispered, "so tired…"

Kanda got off the bed. He threw a half lidded glance at the shaking boy.

"Why…Why did you do that? Why did you kidnap me? What the hell do you want from me? Wha…"

He sniffed, feeling his eyes stinging. He let his face fall on the same pillow that just a few moments ago almost killed him.

"I hate you, Kanda… God, I hate you so much… You destroyed my life."

His shoulders started shaking. He slowly gripped his head, going into fetal position. He pressed the knees to his teeth again, looking at the dirty wall. There hung a frame with a blue butterfly pinned in it. One of its wings was broken by time and dust. The other one, still attached, was sticking up, pale and thin and dead.

"How long will this go on? I'm tired already…" the boy murmured, cowering at the insect's sight.

"Who knows…" Kanda softly responded, opening the bathroom door.

___________

*** Herod is a biblical character**. **The Holly Wikipedia, Blessed by Google says:** _"He is described as "a madman who murdered his own family and a great many rabbis."_

**And! I usually do research about the medical stuff so people won't stone me; but this time was exceptional. The whole rib deal is pure speculation on my part. **

**And! I watched My Boss My Hero just now, so the "Thinking positively" is that drama's idea, not mine. I don't wan't to steal someone else's hilarity. It's the funniest Drama I have ever seen.I hope the Stuidity in this fic doesn't melt your brain.**

**P.S. I own the dead cat. Do not touch, under any circumstances. I will pray to Google to strike you down if you do.  
**


	7. Fear

_I'm really sorry it took me so long to post this. I had a writer's block and no imagination._

**Sanatorium: Fear**

Don't look down.

Not down. Allen licked his lips. If he knew that it's going to turn this way, he wouldn't have tried to do it. Yeah. He looked down, trying to shake his head to get that fuzzy feeling of fear out of his head. Crap, there were twenty meters or something. If he fell from that height he would be able to count all his bones, cranium included.

A breeze passed lazily by, making the boy swing on the cotton rope that was tied to the window. C-crap. He had to hold tightly or else… Why didn't he make sure that the rope covered the entire distance from the third floor to the ground BEFORE he tried to go down?! He shredded two bed sheets to make the rope and it went only halfway! Half Way!!! The hell! And why did the wind shut the window?! Now even if he wanted to get inside he wouldn't be able to!!!

He should have known this from the beginning! From the beginning! His plans of escape always sucked. Even when he was a snotty kid in the sandpit and played Monte Cristo with other snotty kids, he always ended up being the old dude who died in the prison. And even in high school, when they did that play, Gandhi or something, he always ended up playing the corpses of unfortunate revolutionaries!

Talk about unfair!!!

A crow flew by and the boy cringed. He was hanging on the damn rope for dear life, while his legs galloped in the air. Damn, why was he so unlucky in escaping? And that Kanda, where the heck was he?!

Well, actually he did wait until Kanda left. Kanda was going out pretty often. And he would be away for three, four hours, after which he came in their rented place, dirty like a mole. He would bring Allen the damned soba—

Soba.

The boy cringed again, and his face made the crow that flew nearby drop dead. That damn loon fed him soba three days!!! Three 24 houred days!! Five meals a day!!!! Thirteen bowls a meal!!!! He looked desperately at his fingers, hoping that they would somehow unveil the mystery of algebra.

THAT WAS A LOT OF BOWLS!!!

Allen whimpered and kicked the air again. He had to get out of here, but not like that!!! Escaping like that was plain stupid!!

Of course he had tried other plans! (none of which helped.)

His first plan was to just open the door and run away. It didn't work. The door was locked, that's one. The woman with broccoli stuck in her teeth refused to open it; that's two. Kanda caught him picking the lock with the spoon and beat the crap out of him; that's three.

Then he tried to resort to peaceful protests, like Gandhi. But it didn't work because Kanda was Japanese and a bastard, and didn't care for the brave little Hindu who freed his country.

Nonetheless, Allen tried. He tried! He pissed Kanda off and then let himself be beaten by the cruel British gove… no, by Kanda. That ignorant bastard had no idea that he had to give in to Allen's demands and stop hitting him because he would look bad in the world's eyes!!!

In other words, that plan didn't work. So Allen took out his trump card. Yes! That very terrifying card!

He went on hunger strike. It was a kind of strike where the person would starve and yet look heroic while resembling an escapee from Auschwitz camps. Allen was sure these kinds of strikes were popular. Very popular.

Just at his uncle's office he met thousands of young women with gray faces and furtive looks who snatched his doughnuts. They said that they were protesting their Fat. They said that agreeing to go on a diet made their lives different. And at this moment they would snatch another doughnut. If it worked then Allen could certainly try it. If hunger strikes could kill such a stubborn enemy as Fat, they would work on Kanda too.

At first it was easy. When Kanda brought him soba topped with broccoli he refused to look at it. Kanda just shrugged. That bastard didn't take his admirable efforts seriously. Prick. But Allen waited. He knew this is just the beginning! And he waited another two hours until dinner time.

When the dinnertime came Allen seriously needed to rethink his decision. It was he who was going to starve, not Kanda. And even if he did starve and look cool, Kanda would just raise his brow and say: "Cover your bones, dolt!" It would benefit Kanda's pockets, since he would not have to pay for seventeen soba bowls. Why did people invent such a foolish method of protesting?!!

The wind hit him again and the boy cried out, trying to not let go of the rope.

"Brat?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?!?"

Ah.

Allen glanced below him. Kanda was standing in the driveway, looking absolutely furious. Allen felt his soul sing Halleluiah. Kanda was here! That meant he could finally get into the room and let go of the stinking rope!! It meant he could finally eat something! After all, hanging an out of the window required rigorous arm muscles!

"I can't get inside, Kanda! The window is closed!"

"Just..don't move! Stay like that and don't move!!"

The man ran into the building.

Allen groaned. Just a few minutes and all of his (self-inflicted) martyrdom will be gone!! Another crow passed by. Where the hell did they come from?! Allen glanced below him, trying to distinguish anything in the dark.

There were tombs below, not one or two, but rows and rows…an infestation of tombs. Like some cemetery.

Wait.

Why the hell was this tavern built near a cemetery?! Did they like the stench of the bodies?! Did they?! Or was it the cadaver filled sunset they liked?! Allen squinted, trying to better his vision up to 200/230.

The whole cemetery was covered in growing broccoli.

NO WAY!!! And he ate seventeen plates with that thing yesterday!!! And that meant he ate broccoli that grew drawing nutrients from bodies!! No wonder they were so good. Allen looked at the broccoli fields, horrified. Why did bad things ALWAYS happen to good people?!

And where the hell was Kanda, that bastard?! Let his soul burn in hell!

But the presence of the crows still couldn't be explained. Damn, why was Kanda so slow?!

A crow sat right on the tomb under him. He followed the bird with his eyes. The crow took off and floated aimlessly in the air, joining another crow. Then a third one came. Allen carefully watched the trees. They were black with crows. Why would crows lurk around? Were they looking for food? But there were just dead people there, no foo—

No way. Allen gulped and cringed. Crows are vegetarian, right? They don't eat meat, right? They eat pretty things, like lettuce, and salad, and radish, and broccoli, right? They were there for the broccoli, right? Not for an eyeball, right? There was no way they'd eat an eyeball, or a finger, or someone's brai—

A crow flew from a tree and started to ring around a tomb. It levitated there for a second, deciding which part of body was tastier (Allen swore she had hungry eyes!) and nosedived into the bushes of broccoli. Allen held his breath. He was going to see the greatest show ever: a crow with an eyeball in its mouth and an ominous red dot in the eye.

Five seconds later, the crow came out with a piece of bread someone put there as offering for the dead.

"Gah!!! Why are you so deceiving!?" Allen yelled, kicking the air wildly. Above him something snapped, and the boy felt his stomach doing a bungee jump.

"Brat, hold on, I'll pull you right up!"

Allen snapped his eyes closed, feeling panic crawling in his stomach. A sudden jerk made him yelp. Kanda was carefully pulling the rope up, making the boy more nervous. The rope creaked dangerously, making Kanda stop and hold his breath. And Allen would start kicking the air this very second, sure that the bastard left him to rot under the window.

Finally, when Kanda's arms reached the boy's arm pits and pulled him up, Allen shut up and emanated a hurt aura. He stood defiantly in front of the furious man, looking away. Kanda simply grabbed him by the shoulder, painfully squeezing it.

"Do you have any brains? At least a bit?! IDIOT!!! You could have died! What were you thinking, imitating Tarzan under the freaking window?!"

"Is that so hard to figure out, Betty boy?" Allen grinned in Kanda's irate face. "I tried to run away." He sneered when the man silently let him go, taken aback by the his words.

"Is that so unbelievable?" Allen continued, screwing a hole in Kanda's face. "Is that so _abnormal_ when the victim tries to run away from his captor?"

Kanda's eyes narrowed and he turned away, silently walking toward the bathroom door.

"What do you expect me to do? Jump in joy and thank you for screwing up my life? Thank you," Allen said, making a reverence, "Thank you, kind sir," he continued laughing darkly, "for saving my sorry ass from a normal lif—"

Allen choked when Kanda turned around and pushed him hard into the nearby wall. The air was painfully squeezed out of his lungs. He silently slid down, just before the man grabbed him by the throat and pushed him into the shaky bed.

"One more word," Kanda whispered, his lips half an inch away from the boy's ear, "Just one more word and you're dead."

Allen went absolutely still. Kanda meant it. He could feel it. He just stared in the man's dark eyes, holding his breath. Swallowing a swelling in his throat he blinked, and that simple motion made him afraid for his life. Kanda slowly touched his cheek, making the boy whimper and try to pull his head farther.

"Afraid?" he whispered again, and Allen felt him grinning. That word made his mind blank with fear, responding to his state extremely accurately. Kanda's face was too close to him. Too close not to try.

He suddenly hit Kanda in the face with a sharp fist. The man jerked back, letting go of his wrist, covering his face. Allen turned on his chest and reached for the table, trying to shake Kanda's body off of him. He kicked blindly, eyes locked on the table's surface.

Knife.

A simple kitchen knife. He cried out when his fingers finally reached the metallic object. Behind him the man seemed to finally feel the kicks in his chest and stomach, because he backed away, letting the boy go. Jumping off the bed, Allen backed into the wall holding the knife in front of him, like he had seen it in the movies.

He watched Kanda stand up slowly and ominously. The man was silent in his white fury.

"Go away," Allen whispered. He closed his eyes as if Kanda's face imprinted in his retina could kill him. "GO AWAY!!" he yelled, hurting his ears. "I s-swear, if yo-you move, I'll ki-kill you!" He stuttered, feeling his knees bent and weak.

"I'll d-do it, I s-swear by G-god," he hiccupped, trying to cancel out the hysteria that was sneaking on him. Kanda stood up, still not losing the eye contact. He took his hair piece out and slowly rocked his head from one shoulder to another, creating a black screen around his face. His eyes suddenly became three tones darker, almost black.

That simple effect made Allen fall on his back, unable to feel his legs anymore. He still stared at Kanda, wide eyed, unable to avert his gaze. He felt entranced yet so lucid and awake it hurt. That man did something to him. He had no idea what. That bastard was moving slowly, watching him intensely, like some kind of snake.

"I-I'll ki-kill y-you," Allen sniffed, baking away into a corner. His hands were shaking so badly that he gripped the knife with both hands until his knuckles went white. Kanda was three feet away. He slowly stretched his mouth into a strange, lipless smile.

"Try it," he breathed out, not disturbing his pace. He crept closer and closer until Allen jerked his feet under him. He mutely watched the man as he leaned ahead until the knife pocked is throat.

"Do it," he smiled, cooking his head. "One strike and you're free. One strike and you are not a captive anymore. Just one small strike." He leaned closer, making Allen's hands back away, "Go," he breathed in his face.

The boy's fingers gripped spasmodically. One strike. One strike and everything will be over. He hesitantly pressed the tip of the knife to Kanda's Adam's apple. He could see how the metallic object poked the skin there, and bit his lip, trying to press harder.

Murderer.

Allen stiffened. If he killed Kanda, he would be a murderer. And there was no excuse for that. He gulped and stared in Kanda's face again. If he did it, the man would be laying on the floor, grinning with that creepy smile while his throat would lose its natural whiteness.

The boy suddenly unwrapped his fingers off the knife's wooden handle. It fell on his lap. The boy tried to smile, still staring in Kanda's eyes. The lifted corners of his mouth made the tears lose the tracks they were following and slither over the lips into his mouth.

"I can't," he murmured, slowly lifting his arms up, as if Kanda held a gun. "I can't," he repeated, whispering to himself, "I'm not a murderer."

"Thought so," Kanda smirked, carefully scratching the boy's throat. "Kill or be killed. Life sure is simple." He pulled the boy down, making him squirm in a pathetic attempt to free himself. "Watch yourself die, demented fool."

He slowly slid a hand under the boy's parka. Feeling the goose-bumps under the palm he smirked.

"You're supposed to shit your pants about now, boy."

Allen's stomach caved in, reacting to the touch. He still stared at Kanda mutely, hoping that everything would end fast. The man lifted the parka and traced a finger from the boy's chest to his stomach. The skin turned cold under his touch. He brought a hand in his pocket, taking out a small knife case.

Allen's eyes suddenly widened and he stared at the man in complete horror.

"N-no. Please, no!"

Kanda cocked one brow, pressing a scalpel against the boy's stomach.

"Why?" He sounded false. Allen bit his shaking lips.

"I-It's a s-slow de-death… a-and it looks p-painful…"

Kanda blinked. Allen was watching the hand with the surgical knife, jerking involuntarily. Kanda slowly lifted his hand and let the scalpel fall on the floor.

"It will stay there if you promise to never run away," he said evenly, watching the pale boy with half lidded eyes. Strange. He had no idea the little idiot was afraid of blades. But again, who wouldn't, in that situation?

"I promise," Allen breath out immediately, " Just take th-that away…"

Kanda picked up the scalpel and was about to put it back in his pocked when he saw the boy's face. Allen looked frozen with horror; he stiffed his eyes on Kanda's hand, not even daring to breathe. The man rapidly slithered his hand in his back pocket, touching the knife-case. He sat on the bed and ran a hand through the hair.

"Come here," he said, nodding at the boy. Allen reluctantly stood up. He made three paces and stopped. Kanda sighed.

"I said, come here," he pointed at the spot right in front of him. Allen's face twitched. He moved hesitantly, like a broken puppet. Kanda slowly put a hand on his hair and the boy jerked back, hunching.

"Come here, idiot," Kanda hissed, grabbing him by the arm and slamming the small body into himself. Something wet and hot pressed in his palm and he felt the boy falling at his feet. He was bent practically in half, covering his face and pushing Kanda way at the same time.

"I hate you, I hate you," he murmured like a mantra, his whole body trembling in large, powerful waves.

Hysteria. That was all Kanda could think, watching as the Allen jerked on the floor, unable to stop thrashing even though nothing held him. His guttural murmurs grew in intensity. Kanda momentarily bent and lifted the boy, trying to contain his wild movements in an iron grip.

"I hate you! I hate you!" Allen suddenly yelled, his face twisting with mad laughter. Kanda felt a cold chill yanking the nerves in his spine. Allen was laughing in a senseless, hollow wail, like a mechanical toy. He suddenly stopped and gripped Kanda by the throat, digging his nails in it. Kanda opened his mouth, helplessly trying to swallow nonexistent air.

"I hate you," Allen hissed and squinted, his lips pressing against Kanda's cheek. He bit it wildly, pulling back, like a bulldog. Kanda gritted his teeth. The boy's face was close, horrifying with blood on its lips. Allen suddenly bent backward in Kanda's grip, making the man loose his footing.

" 'Fraid?" Allen yelled and suddenly touched Kanda's face with his fingers, seconds before he slithered the palm into the man's hair, pulling it down savagely. Kanda felt his eyes sting with tears of pain. That little demon was going too far.

"Stop it," he snapped, eyes searching for something cold, preferably water. The boy bit him again, this time in his shoulder. The small teeth broke the skin, digging deep into the bony arm. Kanda gripped him tighter, trying to break the tension in the boy's body. He hissed, feeling claws on his face, digging into the flesh of his bitten cheek. He heard a strange hohoing and stumbled to the bed, crushing the kid under him.

"I hate you!!"

The boy was hissing and biting Kanda's neck while the man simply gritted his teeth and pressed him down. He slowly was able to encircle him, limiting the violent movements of the arms. Such outbursts were brought by an extreme fear. Tch. He overdid it. Kanda was grimly considering to never use that again against the kid. Allen could simply die of fear.

He suddenly tensed, feeling the boy's apparent exhaustion. His thrashing became less violent and he stopped biting Kanda's shoulder. His breathing became heavy and pronounced. In five minutes he stopped completely, staring at the man, lost and disoriented. His face was wet and dirty while the pupils expanded slowly, reacting to light.

"Ka-kanda…" He sobbed weakly, "G-get off, it hurts…"

"You're done?" Kanda lifted his torso, looking at the boy's mouth, smeared with his blood. Allen stared at him with hurt and tired eyes. He blinked when a drop of blood from Kanda's face plopped on his chin.

"You're bleeding," he whispered, slowly touching Kanda's cheek. Kanda winced, making Allen jerk his fingers back.

"Di-did I do that to you?" he was genuinely scared. "Kanda…" he whispered, horrified, "Did I do that to you?!"

Kanda tiredly jerked his lips in a crooked smile. He felt drained, unable to respond or react. He let his face fall into the curve of the boy's neck. Allen stirred, unable to hide his unfamiliarity with the touch.

"Just sleep," Kanda whispered, feeling the strong smell of Allen's sweat. "Just sleep. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

"To-tomorrow?" Allen sharply inhaled the air in, trying to calm down. Kanda nodded, burying his face in the other's neck. Allen nervously raised one hand and shyly stroked Kanda's hair. He felt the man quiver under his fingers.

"Kanda? I kind of need to go to the bathroom," he felt himself redden with shame. Kanda slowly rolled on one side, letting him go. The boy sat up and glanced over his shoulder. Kanda was sleeping. He was exhausted. Allen's eyes lowered on the man's behind. He could see the bulge on the jeans, meaning there was something inside, something like keys.

There was a moment of hesitation. Then the boy crawled back on the bed, touching Kanda's pocket.

He slid his hand inside, freezing when the man sighed in his sleep. The insides of the pocket were hot. He felt a cell-phone and took it out. A lighter, a pack of strange cigarettes that he had never seen before, and the keys finally were laying on the bed. He took the phone, slipping it into his jeans. Looking at the keys he hesitated.

Two paces. Two paces and he'd be free. He sighed and looked back at Kanda. The man was sleeping on his abdomen, face hidden into the pillow.

"Kanda, I have to leave," he whispered, gripping the keys. "You kidnapped me. I have to run. It's supposed to be that way."

Kanda breathed softly into the pillow, not even knowing he had to answer.

"Kanda, I have to leave," Allen repeated, trying to convince himself he was talking to Kanda. Damn it. He had to leave. The keys were warm, still reminiscing of the times when they were pressed against Kanda. Allen approached the door and opened it, staring in the foul smelling hallway. There was light below, someone was cooking.

Soba.

He sat on the floor and threw the keys into the wall. The metallic bunch shrilly bumped into the wall, falling under a chair. Soba. Kanda fed him soba. Kanda liked soba. He liked green tea too. He liked black and forests, and hated cities and strident women.

Kanda also hated stupidity. He disliked naïve people. He also disliked yellow and pink. But he loved deep blue. And he loved privacy and solitude. And silent companions.

Allen knew him. He knew what pissed him off and what made him blissfully silent. He knew his very soul. And he didn't want Kanda to be caught. It was illogical and horrible. He was abnormal. He wasn't supposed to feel sorry for his captor.

Stockholm Syndrome.* He knew it. Every single psychologist knew it. The boy slowly bit his thumb, trying to guess how far he can go. The pain made him alive. The pain made him shut up his mind. He finally felt the nail bending under the pressure, giving out a bitter taste of dark blood.

He stood up and weakly sat on the bed, taking off his socks. He lifted Kanda's hand and stuffed himself under the man until his slow breath tickled Allen's forehead. The boy slowly kissed the wounded cheek, feeling the blood on his lips again.

"Just tell me everything tomorrow, Kanda," he murmured, stroking the man's hair. "Just tell me tomorrow. I'll wait."

__________________________________________

***A response sometimes seen in abducted hostages, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger or risk in which they have been placed. (Wikipedia)**

Ok, people. I love you. All those wonderful reviews made me so happy I decided to write something fluffy. And, a burp of irony, this monstrosity came out.

Sorry.

I sincerely apologize.

P.S. Those who are reading Tales of the Roadkill, please visit my profile for an anouncement for the said story.


	8. Sanatorium

Sanatorium: Sanatorium

"Kanda! Kanda, wake up!"

The man cracked an eyelid only to see a pallid face floating above him. And the obvious darkness in the room, which insinuated that it was sleeping time right now. Acting accordingly, Kanda glared at the face with all his might and turned on his chest, ignoring the feeble hands shaking him.

"Kanda, get up! This is serious!"

Allen shook him again, containing a shiver. He heard noises in the hall, noises too familiar to be missed. He nervously glanced at the softly snoring man and shook him again, only to be pushed off by a sudden movement of the man's leg.

"Kanda! Just get up, for god's sake!"

As a response to the angry request, Kanda sat upright, his face dark and teeth glinting. Allen crawled on the bed and sat in front of him, making a strange, strangled noise.

"I heard them in the hall. I think the police officers are here," Allen whispered into Kanda's face, and the man twitched at the sweet smell radiating off the boy. "I heard them talk about you, so I think we'd better leave," Allen continued, not noticing Kanda's heavy eyelids slowly closing.

"Kanda, you listening?! This is about you, not me!"

Kanda opened his eyes and stared at him silently in the dark, noticing a genuinely worried look on the moonlit face. Allen looked much younger than in the madhouse, and that somehow took Kanda aback. The man wordlessly let his eyes clap and drift off into a sleepy direction.

"Kanda!"

"What?" Kanda snapped out of his daze and shivered. The window was opened for some reason and his shirt was wet.

"We have to leave!" Allen whispered hurriedly, grabbing Kanda by the arm. The man twitched, noticing the small hands on his elbow. The boy tugged him again with an alarmed look on his face.

"Get off," Kanda whispered and crudely shook Allen's hand off of him, leaving the boy sit on the bed in a spot of a silver light. Kanda paced to the bathroom without glancing back. It was strange. He never expected to be so influenced by a simple touch, not from that idiotic doctor.

The kid obviously had no idea what mess he got into when he had come to the nut house; that much was evident. That damn face of his was exasperating as were his tries to make a bond with his patient. Overall, he was annoying and stubborn, a prototype for a donkey.

"Kanda, they'll catch you!"

Kanda jolted up and glared behind him, squeezing too much tooth paste on his toothbrush. The kid was even more perturbed; he clearly was scared to death by something. How stupid.

"Who will?"

Allen gaped. He silently gawked at Kanda, unconsciously fisting his hands.

"Weren't you listening to what I was telling you all this time?" he asked quietly, obviously attempting to keep his calm.

"Nah. I'm not interested in your rambling," the man deadpanned and averted his eyes from the boy, watching himself in the mirror brush his teeth. As no venomous or hostile response came, Kanda glanced at the tiny figure beside him.

"What? You wanna cry or something?"

The boy bit his lips.

"I knew you were insensitive, Kanda," he said with a hardly contained anger, "but I didn't expect you to be downright heartless."

"Huh?" For a moment there Kanda almost swallowed the toothbrush. He watched the boy leave the bathroom, climb the top of the bed and bury his face in Kanda's pillow, his shoulders stiff and tensed.

"What the hell, bean?"

"Shut up!" Allen hissed and buried himself under the big pillows and woolen blanket. Kanda smirked. That was so like him.

"Don't tell me you're worried for me," the man sat on the bed, making it moan. He let himself down and calmly watched the great bulge under the blankets. The boy was probably pouting or wiping his eyes or-

Kanda stiffened. He clearly could hear careful footsteps behind the door. He rapidly paced to the door, avoiding making sounds. He pressed himself against the door, longing to hear and feel every change, whisper or tremor behind the wood.

"_Give me the key_," a muffled voice uttered quietly and a catlike noise scratched the keyhole. Kanda felt a shudder down his spine. It wasn't the police. It was _them_, and they would never stop even if Kanda force a gun down a hostage's throat. The man took out his own key and forced it into the hole, not letting the Sanatorium's guards open it so easily.

That gave him some time to leave. He moved in low tones, gathering everything that could suggest he was here or that this room was ever populated. It was easy, since he hadn't brought many things with him. The only thing left was the boy. Kanda stealthily paced to the bed and sat down, feeling the mattress bend under his weight.

"Let's go. Now," he whispered under his breath, pressing his lips into the blanket. The cloth shivered and was thrown away, revealing a sweaty and tensed face. Instead of asking pointless questions as Kanda expected him to, Allen silently pulled his pants up, buttoning the shirt in hurry. He had a strange glint in his eyes, not fear or even excitement.

"Kanda, we can leave through the window," he mouthed, jolting when the door trembled quietly under the attackers' assault. It seemed that they weren't doing something legal; therefore they were obviously trying to keep the racket down.

Kanda silently lifted his boots and started to shake them gently upside down. Allen palled seeing a small, feminine looking gun. It glinted in Kanda's hands, and the man seemed very comfortable with it.

"Come here," Kanda pointed at the window, peeking over the side. It looked too high to jump. Allen came to him carefully, avoiding the hand with the gun.

"We can't jump," he stated, unconsciously grasping Kanda's fingers. The man observed him with the corner of his eye. He was amazed at the visibly controlled emotion this small boy possessed. Even Kanda, a trained person with lots of experience didn't expect that from an amateur.

"I know!" Allen suddenly gripped his hand tighter in Kanda's palm. He faced the man with an excited gleam in his irises.

"We can slide into the window below this one, and then leave!"

Kanda smirked.

"I was already on that. That's why I called you here," he said quietly, attaching a rope to the boy's belt. His fingers' movements were fast and precise, and Allen had a funny feeling it wasn't normal.

"Kanda, really, what _are_ you?"

The man scowled and tightened the knot on the boy's belt.

"This is clearly not time for it," he jumped on the window pane and lifted the boy in his arms. "Stay still, got it?"

The door creaked and stealthy paces rumbled through the room. Kanda silently pushed himself away from the wall, sliding down on the rope Allen had made the previous day in an attempt to run away. How lucky.

"Kanda, the window below is open," the boy whispered into Kanda's ear, earning a shiver. The man felt him smile. "I didn't know you were ticklish," Allen whispered in the same manner, restraining himself from laughing with an effort.

"Well, now you do," Kanda hissed, feeling the giggling in his ear. How the hell could the brat laugh in this situation?!

Finally reaching the open window, Kanda let his legs inside, careful not to wake up the potentially present person there. He felt the boy slide off of him and plop on the table, making it much easier to move.

"I think this is the kitchen," Allen murmured and jumped softly on the floor. Kanda followed in complete silence. He could see the boy in front of him, touching the door with iron hammered into it, a medieval anti-rat measure. How old was this shitty hotel, anyway?

"Kanda, they're in the hall!" a panicked voice piped next to him. Kanda didn't answer, settling for scrutinizing the kitchen. There were two doors: one led outside, and he knew that because of an old EXIT sign. The other one looked closed and probably belonged to a closet. Just looking at it made Kanda shiver.

"Are you listening?" Now the brat was tugging his sleeve, in the brattiest way. Tch. Allen was clearly panicking and that was a big disadvantage.

"Kanda!"

"Shut up, idiot; you'll attract attention!"

The boy's eyes glinted in the most threatening way. He was watching the man with annoyance, twitching every time the noise in the hall amplified. It seemed that the people who were after them didn't—

A loud thump on the stairs and the boy almost fell off the chair he was leaning on. The voices were so loud that they clearly woke up the owner of the hotel plus a half of a town.

"_They're here! George, they're here! Bring the ram, the fucking door's bolted!"_

"Kanda…" Allen whispered with a strangled voice, digging his nails into the man's hand. "Kanda, what do we do?"

The man smirked and Allen silently wondered if he already lost all his sanity. In this situation, Kanda's reaction wasn't normal. He was supposed to cry and shake and dive into despair, not smirk like a cat that drowned in milk. He glanced at the man again and almost yelled with fury. That idiot was playing with a pair of manicure scissors, sticking them into the closet door and taking them out, bending the blade.

"We can't escape through the closet, genius! Why the heck are you violating that door?" Allen furiously whispered, crawling past Kanda and hitting him in the back. The man tcheed and glared over the shoulder.

"So you'd finally shut up and don't ask dumb questions."

"Wow, Kanda," the boy sarcastically raised his brows and hit him again. "How deep you are in your reasoning!"

Kanda shrugged and stood up, opening the closet door without any effort. The insides of the closet were even more unexpected. It was completely full with broken chairs, tables and other junk that didn't belong in a kitchen.

Allen cautiously paced over an old frying pan and froze.

"Kanda, don't close the door, idiot! It's too dark in here!"

"Shut up."

And the door shut tightly, locking them inside. Just for a moment Allen had a sensation that he's nearly blind and cannot see anything except white dots and strange shapes on the back of his eyelids. He could hear Kanda huffing in the most inappropriate way, creating himself a road through the mutilated furniture.

Just for a second a flashlight blinked in the complete darkness, licking a corner with huge refrigerator in it. Then the light disappeared, leaving Allen with white spots on his retina. By the noise he heard Allen could tell Kanda fell on something, grunting painfully.

"Kanda, seriously, just lit your flashlight! I stepped on something soft and it grosses me out!" the boy pleaded, lifting a foot.

"That's my hand, idiot! Get off!"

"Oh. Sorry. Next time don't leave your belongings on the floor."

"Tch. Cheeky brat."

"Ow. What a blow to my self-respect!"

"You don't have self-respect, bean-sprout, or else you wouldn't have been born."

"Allen. It's Allen you jerk! Really, why are you calling me by this lame nickname?"

" 'Cause it's lame."

Then silence sat between them and Allen silently wondered why Kanda closed them in here. Any idiot would think to look in the closet!

"Hey, bean. Get in."

Allen gawked in the darkness, trying to see the voice that sounded very close. He extended one arm and hit something warm and soft that grunted.

"My eye… Idiot!"

"Sorry, I can't see," Allen stiffed a laughter and moved closer to the warm spot. In two seconds he knew he already reached his destination, as an arm snaked around his middle, dragging him into the refrigerator.

"Kanda, what are you doing? It's stuffy, and if the fridge closes we won't get out!"

"Tch!" Kanda covered his mouth and froze; Allen could hear Kanda's blood pulsing in the crook of his neck. The man breathed directly in Allen's eye and the boy blinked, grazing Kanda's lips with the movement of his eyelashes.

Heavy paces hit the floor in a casual, threatening manner.

"_They must be here_. _If you find the doc, just shoot his brains out without questions. I'll take the responsibility."_

Allen blinked. He suddenly became very aware of Kanda's breath in his neck. And maybe, just maybe he felt a bit cold. Just a bit.

"Bean? Don't fidget, you'll atrac— What the hell?!"

Kanda gripped the boy tighter in his arms. He felt his wet face on his neck and the quiet sobs that rushed out in small waves out of the hoarse throat.

"They want to kill _me_, not you. _Me_," Allen mouthed and dug his nails into Kanda's side. "I didn't do anything wrong! I did nothing wrong!"

"I know! Just shut up for now, or they'll—"

"_Did you look in the closet?"_

"_Nah, I won't bother. That Japanese bitch is afraid of cramped places. Remember when I put him in ninth cell? He almost lost his marbles!"_

A heavy laughter shook the room and a loud noise hit Allen's ears. It seemed that something wooden hit the floor.

"A rifle," Kanda whispered, craning his neck to hear well. Allen closed his eyes shut, feeling fear inundating his whole being. The heavy boots of the guards were close; they measured the floor with calculated paces, sometimes stopping dead and shuffling around, attracted by some likely clue.

They wouldn't find them here. Allen silently screamed in his head, praying to forgotten gods and buddhas. He felt Kanda shift away from his face, only to circle an arm around his chest, pulling him tighter.

"They won't find us," the whisper came like a breeze and the heavy stomping ceased to exist. Nothing existed anymore. Just him. And Kanda. In the refrigerator.

Allen smiled against Kanda's skin.

"Are you really afraid of small places?"

"No. It was a psychological play."

"Oh."

After a small pause full of thoughts and blinking on Allen's part, and pronounced silence on Kanda's, the boy spoke again.

"What do you mean _psychological play_?"

Instead of answering, Kanda opened the refrigerator and carelessly pushed the boy out.

"It's over now," he said smirking and turned on the flashlight. "You land in most curious poses, bean-sprout."

"What the hell!" Allen got up, rubbing his cheek. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"Heard that before," The man shrugged and opened the closet door. He half exited when Allen bumped in him from behind.

"Kanda? Move, it smells funny in here—"

"Oh, cutie, so you were with him," a fat voice exclaimed, sending Allen into a frozen state. He silently peeped from under Kanda's stiff frame. His eyes landed on a tall and large man with a pink face and red hair.

"Well, come out; it's not like I'd do you harm," the man laughed, showing gray, large teeth. And then everything moved too fast. In a half of a second Kanda was in midair in a cat-like jump. Before the big man could scream or take out his gun he was already prostrated on the floor, the small gun shoved into his throat.

"I don't take chances," Kanda sneered in a wild, crazed manner, showing his teeth. They were white and sharp, and the boy simply stared at the entire scene, frozen to his place by boundless fear. He twitched weakly when the gun moved into the guard's mouth, forcing the jaws to open. He listened to the animalistic hiss on Kanda's lips and blinked once when two snappy, sick sounds clicked in the darkness.

The large man rolled on one side, his eyes open. A thin trail of blood found its way on his cheek, snaking on the ripped lips.

"Cutie…" he uttered throatily and tugged his reddening lips into an ugly, lacerated smile. His eyes didn't close, leaving the yellowish eyes to stare into nothingness.

Kanda got off the man and wiped his face, smearing blood over his right cheek and upper lip. He blinked in a casual way and wiped his lip again, licking it for more effectiveness. Not even bothering to look at Allen, the man turned the guard on one side, checking his pockets.

"Car keys," he muttered and pocketed the metallic pieces. "Now we really can escape from here," he grinned, lifting a strange gun with a long ejector tube and twirling it around his finger. It belonged to the guard.

"Let's go, sprout," he nodded toward the boy expectantly, moving to the door without hurry. Then he stopped, annoyed at the lack of movement on the boy's part.

"What now? Did you piss your pants?"

"You killed him," Allen choked on his words and stared at Kanda with a white, bloodless face. "You killed a person," the boy said weakly, getting on his feet. He went to the corpse and stared at it with widely opened eyes.

"Marlboro-san," Allen whispered and touched his temple. "He never did anything wrong!"

Kanda mutely listened, counting the remaining ammunition. He heard despair in the boy's voice and was again reminded that this child had no knowledge of the situation they were in.

"Brat," he said curtly, just to attract attention, "he's lucky he died. Now, stop your sentimental outbursts and let's leave. We're losing time just sitting here."

"I'm staying here," the boy replied, watching Kanda with cold and sharp eyes. "I don't want to see more dead bodies on my way out," he sarcastically smirked, biting his lips.

"You idiot," Kanda gripped the guard's shotgun in one hand. "If you stay here the only dead body you'll see will be yours!"

"At least I'll have an out-of-body experience," Allen shrugged, taking his coat off and covering the guard's face with it. "You can't deny me the pleasure, Kanda. Just leave, end of story."

It was all an act, and Allen knew it. And he knew as well that all acts come to some end, sometimes revealing the tricks behind it. He was simply afraid, afraid of that kind of Kanda who had some kind of sadistic pleasure of forcing guns down somebody's throat. And there was no way he would go with that kind of Kanda.

"Well, I can always finish the job for the fuckers who'll be here in five minutes, you know," Kanda smirked, taking out Glock 9mm. He extended his arm and gripped the small gun, closing one eye.

"You're kidding, right?" Allen let out a small laughter and immediately ceased it, seeing Kanda's serious face.

"I never kid."

Two more paces and Allen stumbled on the corpse, falling on top of it. It was still warm and fleshy, and the boy distinctively smelled cigarette and blood on it. He averted his eyes from the corpse and froze, seeing the cold hole of the gun between his eyes.

And then it was all black, with white dots on it.

________

Kanda smirked and hoisted the boy on his shoulder. He expected him to cry or plead for his life, but not faint like a girl. Well, that spared Kanda a blow to the boy's temple, which would probably leave a mark, and that was troublesome.

He looked back at the corpse and scowled. In a sense, Allen was right. The guard didn't do anything; moreover, he was somehow attached to the kid, calling him 'cutie.' Kanda bit his lip and walked away gripping the boy with all his might.

It was a guard. It had to be killed.

"This is pointless," the man murmured to himself. Pain was gnawing his right shoulder; the boy had some weight. And it wasn't five measly pounds, as his stature and face suggested. More like ninety. Or forty kilograms. He liked the metric system more.

Sneaking past the rest of the gray clad people, Kanda slithered to the door. Stupid idiots. Couldn't they count their comrades? Wasn't it obvious that one was missing?

"How long do you think it'll take George?" as an answer a booming voice addressed to another guard.

"I sure hope he won't go all soft and mushy at that little boy's face. Poor fucker. Not that I'd blame him."

"How old is he?"

"Who? George?"

"The kid, dumb ass."

"The record says he's twenty, Caucasian and all that shit."

The rest of the conversation sank in the bleak light of a forty watt light bulb. Twenty, huh? Kanda crawled outside and breathed heavily, putting the kid on the grass. Luckily, the sanatorium's cars were all the same model and color; the only difference was the number plates. Kanda took out the car keys he found in the guard's pocket.

"MDXXX. MD, MD," he chanted and finally spotted the car, a large black Jeep. Perfect. He opened the car and put Allen in the front seat, lowering it as much as he could. It was almost horizontal, like a bed. The man frowned looking that the boy's face and took off his coat, covering the boy.

Just then he noticed the blood stains on it. They were high on the chest, almost touching Allen's face.

"Tch."

Kanda turned the coat upside down. When the boy stirred and sighed, the man turned away and finally put the keys into the ignition. The dawn would break soon and Kanda wanted to be as far away from this place as he could.

___________

He drove for hours into the sun, his head clear. The brat had to wake up soon. And he had no food or spare clothes. Plus his shirt and coat were covered in blood, not mentioning his face.

"Damn."

He stopped near a large, rain formed puddle and washed his face. The water was surprisingly clean, meaning no cars passed here recently. The sun was up, and judging from its height above the horizon it had to be ten or eleven in the morning.

"Brat, get up."

Kanda pinched the boy's cheek with cold and wet fingers. Allen stirred and gasped, blinking from the bright light that mercilessly hit his eyes. Then a cool hand landed on his face and Allen blinked again, coming to his senses.

"You hungry?"

Allen sat upright and stared around him, confusion yelling loudly in his eyes.

"Where are we?"

"Far away," Kanda replied and took his coat off the boy. "You hungry?" he asked again, avoiding Allen's confused eyes. The boy gradually quit his fidgeting and watched as the road slithered in front of them.

"Weren't you going to shoot me?" Allen asked quietly, his eyes on Kanda's boot, where the 9mm was. As Kanda didn't respond, Allen shrugged his shoulders. "You're scary. I never know what you're thinking."

"I'm hungry," Kanda let an amused expression slide on his lips. "And I think I'll stop at the first store to update our provisions."

"Oh," the boy nodded understandingly, not sure why Kanda decided to open up. "So…" he started evasively, "you promised you'll tell me everything today."

"I did." Kanda threw a chocolate bar at him. "Eat that."

"Thank you."

Kanda nodded, accepting the formal gratitude. Catching Allen's curious eyes on his boot, he smirked.

"Silver B. 9mm. Glock. My favorite, since it's small and portable."

"Silver B?"

"Her name. It was my father's. He gave her to me when I was nine."

Allen gulped and bit his finger along with the chocolate.

"What kind of father gives a gun to his child?!"

"An army captain," Kanda's eyes became darker and he sped up.

"Your father was a soldier…"

"No," the man sneered and bit another chocolate bar with a sour expression on his face. "Damn. It's too sweet."

"So he wasn't a regular soldier?" Allen insisted, wanting to hear more about Kanda's past.

"My father was a captain of Special Forces, ninth division; you don't need to know his name."

"Oh. I don't?" the boy smirked at the precision of the info Kanda gave him. The only thing he needed was the address and he could meet the Kanda's father.

"Shut up, bean. You'll earn a punch if you won't cut with the sarcastic crap."

"It's Allen, and you still are not telling me anything about the mad house and why I am in all of this."

"That's because you're a mad bean, and you belong in a mad house, if you ask me."

"I'm not asking you," Allen glared at the smirking man and bit a huge blob of chocolate. Kanda scoffed and took another chocolate bar from his pocket.

"Here, eat. You look like a ghost of a girl who starved to death."

"Shanksh," Allen mouthed, his jaws blocked by the sticky insides of the Snickers bar.

"Tch. Are you really twenty? You look thirteen to me."

"Shut up and drive well. I don't do well in cars," Allen pointed at a turn and opened the newly acquired snack. "So how did you get in the loon house?"

"Mission," came the answer. "I came undercover as a psychologist and had a single patient, just like you."

"You mean you're a psychologist?!" Allen dropped the chocolate and stared at Kanda with awe. The man threw him a wry look.

"There's nothing amazing in that. Aren't you one?"

"I'm just a beginner! There's no way I could be a fully fledged professional!"

"Ah. That would explain that unusual thickness of yours."

The car stopped brusquely and Kanda jumped out. Allen followed, noticing a small country store. He self-consciously looked at himself and scurried back to the car. He wore a dusty and ripped pair of pants and no shoes. His socks, previously white, resembled a dead puppy by smell and appearance. He sat back in his seat and silently prayed that Kanda didn't forget him.

In a half of an hour, the man came back and sat silently in the driver's seat, his face exhausted.

"Damn bitch. She clearly took advantage of me."

Allen dove into the numerous packets and came out with a bread stick in his mouth and a pack of underwear in his hand.

"You're God," he muffled through the bread and dove into the bags again. Kanda smiled tiredly and started to drive, unnerved by a pair of green and lascivious eyes in the store's window. After two miles he stopped and picked up a small bag out of the mountain Allen was swimming in.

"Sit here. I'm going to change."

Allen grinned and jumped out of the dirty shirt he wore. "You can change here; I don't mind."

Kanda rolled his eyes and stared at the boy's neck.

"I do," he said with sudden seriousness and left, disappearing in the nearby bushes. Allen raised his brows and grabbed the pack with underwear, ripping the cellophane apart.

"Weirdo," he laughed and started undressing.

____________________

"So, you mind continuing the story?" Allen mumbled out, chocking on lukewarm coffee Kanda brought from the store. They sat in a willow's shadow near some nameless lake. Kanda had insisted on bathing there, as no hotels were nearby. Now he sat on a rock, squeezing the water out of his hair.

"You look like a mermaid," Allen teased, earning a weak kick to his abdomen.

"You want to listen or what?"

"Ok, I'm listening!"

Kanda sighed and looked at the boy with annoyance. He was gigglier than usually and it usually didn't correspond with his character.

"As I said. I came there as a psychologist. And had only patient, just like you. When the woman died I was immediately shut into the cell as a patient."

Kanda bit into a sandwich and bobbed his leg in a twitchy, nervous way. Allen stared at him expectantly, spilling coffee on the ground.

"That's all?" he asked uncertainly, cocking his head. Kanda swallowed and continued.

"No. That's not all. I was asked by the government to bring evidence of drugs testing and the casualties Saint Noah's Sanatorium had. And the performance of the personnel there."

"Did you find any?!" Allen piped meekly, unable to peel his eyes off the man's face. He had no idea that he lived several weeks under someone's critical eyes. "I hope I answered your expectations," the boy smiled and propped his head on the knee.

"Are you an idiot?" Kanda quietly asked, his voice genuinely surprised. Allen glanced at him, scowling.

"Hey! I didn't insult you, so stop—"

"Don't you get it? If you stayed there, you'd become a patient too. Then die. Dumb ass," Kanda snapped, throwing a cold glare at the boy. "Didn't you know? Every single patient and personnel member in that Sanatorium is a white-collared criminal."

He bit the sandwich again, this time with a hardened hostility. "Weren't you surprised you got such a highly paid job with your record?"

Allen shook his head without a word. Sensing the 'are you kidding me' gaze on himself, he explained.

"I always considered I was lucky. So believing in a miracle was easy for me," he smiled with sadness, covering his face with a palm.

"Miracle?" Kanda tcheed and jabbed his forehead. "You really are naïve. Downright stupid."

"If you put it like this," Allen started hostilely then simply gave up. "You said everyone in that madhouse is a criminal."

"Mad house is not an appropriate name for that place. It's something similar to execution grounds. A place where the criminals die bit by bit; some because of the hallucinogenic drugs, others of fear. In other words, a hellhole."

Allen dropped his eyes.

"I guess that would be true. That place is exactly the place I deserve to be in."

Kanda lifted one brow. "Don't tell me you're a hardened criminal who killed his family and neighbors, laughing like Santa."

Allen bit his lip. "Well, I don't know about that whole hardened criminal thing, and I hate Christmas and Santa. And my neighbors were a pair of drunken clowns who died in a hangover, so that I'd rule out."

Kanda threw him a serious glance. "I was kidding."

"But I did kill my family," Allen said, forcing himself to speak loud and clear. "I was eight and I killed my own father. That makes me a criminal, doesn't it?" He chuckled and sipped the already cold coffee. Kanda swallowed a knot in his throat.

"And I still don't get why you took me with you," the boy cut up the silence and made Kanda bob his foot with fury.

"If I were to run away alone they would have killed you on the spot. After a person dies in that place, no record of him is left. They don't need witnesses," he explained, looking into his sandwich. He sensed Allen smile and take another piece of bread.

"Do you regret you came with me?" Kanda asked, facing the boy with an unreadable expression on his face. Allen blinked and smiled with his eyes.

"No, not really. I have never seen so much in just a few days. I don't want to regret it."

Kanda hm-ed and stood up, starting to wrap up the food. The boy jumped up, helping him. In ten minutes they were driving again in complete silence. Allen lifted an arm to his face and smelled the clean clothes.

"It's nice," he smiled widely and buried his face in a cheap blanket. Kanda shrugged his shoulders and clicked his tongue.

"You are pleased by the simplest things, bean-sprout."

"I guess I am. But isn't that good? Now you know something about me!"

"What are you insinuating?" Kanda knitted his brows together. He barely avoided a stray coyote and stopped in mid road, watching the boy with grave, dark eyes.

"Aren't we going to continue running? Aren't we going to continue hiding and driving endlessly, and eating like that under the willow, and…" Allen stopped to breathe. As soon he regained the rhythm of his lungs he turned to Kanda, smiling with all his being.

"Isn't it going to be fun?"

____________________________________________

Took me six or seven hours to write. Sorry for the long absence, I was writing new stories which I am going to publish sometime next week...


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